


This Is How I Edit Please Send Help

by 3rdgenderfromthesun



Series: Borrowed Womb Time Hop [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alcoholism, F/M, False Police Reports, Gaslighting, M/M, Sexism, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 51,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27490330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdgenderfromthesun/pseuds/3rdgenderfromthesun
Summary: The alternative versions of Mates Don't Come With Manuals. It was too big to put at the end like I usually do for alternate endings. Basically I re-wrote the thing six times, so it's somewhere in the beginning and middle instead of an alternate ending. There is NO ORDER to this "fic". It is utter chaos. I am only posting it because some bits were legitimately good and the 1st date scene was WAY FUNNIER in at least one. It was also a lot more drama, and I wanted the story to feel more like a real relationship than a daytime soap opera.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Kate Argent/Derek Hale
Series: Borrowed Womb Time Hop [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615705
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	This Is How I Edit Please Send Help

That was the problem, though. _Nobody_ wanted Derek. He was too broken, too angry, too anti-social, and a complete fuck up. He didn't deserve a mate, especially not a cute one who could carry a joke, but now that he'd found him he couldn't leave without a formal rejection. He'd have to get it so he could return to his long, meaningless wait for death without dragging someone else down into his malaise. Besides, how could he atone for his crimes with a cub on the way? Not an option.

_Okay,_ Derek thought while taking a few deep breaths, _You've already made a shitty first impression. Just go in there and when the cops show up he'll realize you're not worth the trouble. Then you ask him out and he'll laugh in your face and be done with it. The longing will end after rejection happens._

Derek turned towards the entrance to the alley, but before he could make his way into the shop his mate flipped it to closed, mouthed a sorry to him, and walked away at a fast pace. Derek stared after his ass (oh, fuck, that pert little ass!) and wished that that had been enough of a rejection to get him to stop coming back there. Instead he took a picture of the shop's hours and headed home at a dejected lope. Halfway there he remembered that he still hadn't gotten the book he needed for class.

CHAPTER

Stiles sat down at the breakfast table and frowned at his food while his father scuttled around getting ready for work. He'd been up half the night doing research and he needed the coffee maker, but he wasn't about to get in his dad's way while he was getting his own caffeine fix on. John Stilinski was a gentle drunk but a mean man when uncaffeinated. He was already growling and slamming things so Stiles waited him out and once he had that first sip- one cup at home and one on the road- Stiles finally dared to speak.

“Hey, dad?”

“You can't let me enjoy it, can you,” The man gave him a fond smile.

“My ADHD does not recognize your physical needs,” Stiles stated, “Dad, can omegas smell their mates _easily_?”

John's cup froze halfway towards his mouth and he gave Stiles a horrified look, “You found your mate?”

John's eyes tracked upwards but Stiles shook his head, “No, no, no, nobody up there. Still an annoying virgin here.”

“Fuck's sake, Stiles,” John groaned.

They both knew that wasn't true. Stiles had been with another omega and a beta, but a lot of people viewed it as still virginal till an alpha had him. It was a standing joke between Scott and Stiles that John had overheard more than he wanted to. Stiles didn't have _game,_ per se, but he was cute and funny and that got him the occasional roll in the hay. An alpha or mate, however, was a whole different bale. If Stiles got bitten his body wouldn't care that it was 2156 and omegas weren't breed mares anymore. It would make him crave the alpha he'd been 'bonded' to. Stiles wore a thick collar around his throat to make that harder to accomplish- it was an REM model- but it wouldn't take much to tear through it. Besides, if Stiles took it off to _let_ an alpha bond with him, well... that sort of made it obsolete.

“Okay, let it out,” John waved him to continue, “You emphasized easily, what's easily mean? Obviously something you couldn't google?”

“It's just that the web sites I read said that omegas couldn't tell as easily as alphas, but it just said _as easily as._ As easily as what? I mean, in old days they'd hide all their features so the alphas _had_ to use scent, so it must not be as easy as 'huh, what's that smell, ugh me find mate, me abduct and breed forever', right?” Stiles asked, immitating an cave man.

John rolled his eyes hard and tipped his cup back to chug the coffee like a beer before slamming the mug down on the table and sitting down hard on a chair.

“It's different for everyone,” He told him, “Omegas are _less_ likely to notice, but they do sniff their mates out sometimes. It's just that more often they don't know it at all and have to figure it out by falling in love. Sometimes scents just aren't that strong, too, you know? Your mother smelled like honey, but honey doesn't smell strong from far away. I didn't realize she was my forever until our second date when I got close enough to give her hair a sniff.”

“That's so creepy,” Stiles stage whispered.

“Alpha's are big bundles of instincts, Stiles. You are, too. There's going to be some disconnect from your mind if you've found your mate. You're going to be a bit irration... well, _more_ irrational than usual.”

Stiles gave him an offronted look and put his hand to his chest in protest, “I am a _pillar_ of rational thought!”

John smirked, “So, how'd your first meeting go with Mx. Right?”

“It's Mr. and I screamed in his face to have a nice day and then ran,” Stiles groaned, dropping his head to the table.

John chuckled, “I'm surprised he didn't chase you.”

“He looked pretty shocked to have found me, too. He tried to come back hours later, but by then we were closed. I think he was hovering in the alley like a creeper because a lady complained at the store. I talked her out of calling the cops. Said he was my boyfriend. Dad, my heart _fluttered_ when I said that. What the hell is that? Who's heart _flutters_ if they aren't having a medical emergency?”

John chuckled, “Oh, boy. You've got it bad! Listen, as exciting as this all is, remember to keep your head about you. Smelling good only means he's a good _genetic_ match. That soul mate thing has been disproven six ways from Sunday. He could still be an abusive asshole.”

“I know,” Stiles sighed, “To be honest, he didn't leave me with a very good impression, either. He screamed in my face too, but it was waaaaay more rude. I think I should steer clear. I mean, he looked like he could bench press me and was angry as fuck that I _dared_ to be in his way, you know?”

Stiles felt his hopes sink hard and John reached out to give his shoulder a squeeze, “Hey, it's not the end of the world. So you met one asshole who smelled good, huh? You don't have to marry him. Don't even have to bed him. Just go about your life like he never walked into it, and if he comes up to you again be professional and let him down easy. Shouldn't be too hard since you're at work. People hit on you all the time but you pass them over because it would be weird at work, right?”

“Dad, that doesn't happen,” Stiles gave him a glare, “I am not the stud muffin you have decided I am from your very, very prejudiced view of how awesome I am.”

“It's not prejudiced,” John stood up to get his travel mug and fill it with half the pot of coffee, “It's fact-based analysis.”

“Yeah, right,” Stiles huffed, but accepted his sire's kiss on his head before diving for the coffee pot himself.

Sweet caffeinated relief!

CHAPTER

It wouldn't be hard to get the guy to reject him, of this Derek was sure. He'd already given him a shitty first impression, had it under good authority that he looked like a felon, and was of a mind to get rid of him fast. All he had to do was be himself, plus add in some sort of obnoxious thing he'd heard on the internet. Like say something sexist. That would do it. Fast.

So Derek fed the meter while waiting in his car until the sign was flipped to open. Despite knowing the hours he'd been there two hours before it opened and was fully aware that he was already obsessed, thank you very much. How the hell did alphas behave themselves around omegas? He'd never had a reason to wonder before now. Sure, they smelled like sex incarnate, were always aroused, and had a body part that could literally _wring orgasms from an alpha,_ but they were still PEOPLE. You didn't just start humping them. Derek told himself this repeatedly as he walked up to the door, yanked it open a _bit_ too hard, and stomped towards the front desk.

Isaac was on shift and pointed towards Stiles with a knowing nod. Isaac was in Derek's pack and the only reason he'd bothered to come into a store instead of buy online. His packmate had been going on about the cute shop and his knew job and Derek had wanted to support him. Isaac had a past and Derek was proud of him for stepping out of his comfort zone and getting a job. When he'd heard that Derek was hot for the guy training him he'd rolled his eyes hard.

“ _Derek, that guy is annoying as hell. He literally never shuts up. You'll hate him the second you get passed his smell. Trust me, you've made the right call. You don't want that in your life,” Isaac insisted._

“ _Uh, wait a sec,” Erica argued with hands on hips, “Are you saying he talks a lot? Like our alpha does NOT? What's that saying about opposites attract?”_

“ _Fake and ridiculous?” Isaac suggested._

“ _Or maybe having someone to complete you and fill in the rough patches is a good thing!” Erica pointed out._

“ _Derek only has rough patches. There's not enough of that skinny guy to cover them,” Isaac pointed out._

“ _This is irrelevant, because I do not want to mate!” Derek snapped, “Just tell me how to get rid of him, Isaac? I need a rejection to get him out of my head.”_

“ _Just say something sexist. The guy has pins from, like, every social justice group ever on his bag. He's going on about how we might have laws for equality but not attitudes or some shit. Order him to date you and he'll get all offended. It will be easy.”_

“ _This is a huge mistake,” Erica pleaded._

“ _No, it's not.” Derek stated firmly, ending the discussion with a glare._

“Oh my gods and goddesses,” The guy Isaac had informed Derek was named Stiles was actually _moaning_ over a sticky sweet smelling drink from the cafe, “Seriously, Heather, you're a goddess on that machine. Aphrodite couldn't make a more satisfying drink. I think I need to change my lube pad. I'm _that_ gone on this thing. What did you call it?”

“There's a customer right behind you,” The girl from the cafe giggled.

“That's a _terrible_ name,” Stiles told her, then turned around and froze with eyes wide in horror, “Oh, shit, it's Thor!”

Derek blinked and the part of him that was jealous _of a cappucino_ snarled out something his lizard brain thought was witty in an effort to impress his mate.

“Wrong country.”

“What?” He asked.

“Aphrodite was a _Greek_ goddess. Thor is a Norse god. Different country. You could go with Odysseus?”

“Cheated on his mate but expected her to be faithful for a solid decade. That's the choice you're going with?” Stiles raised an eyebrow.

This was what he'd wanted. A fight. Instead a part of him curled up and whimpered at having given his mate the impression he'd _ever_ be unfaithful.

“I was thinking... human and well known so... I mean, it seems a little pompous to call myself a _god_ or... Uh. Achilles?”

The guy winked at him and licked whipped cream off of his upper lip, “So where's _your_ weak spot,”

_Pretty sure I'm staring at it._ Derek thought, but instead just scowled at him.

“Oh my gosh, you're so adorable when you're flustered,” Stiles blushed up to the roots of his hair and Derek gave him a weak and disoriented smile. Stiles had thrown him for a loop and he wasn't sure where the conversation was going now, “How about I buy you one of these _legendary_ drinks to apologize for my lewd comment earlier?”

Derek's inner wolf freaked the fuck out. His mate wanted to buy him something. His mate was buying him coffee. Was this a date? Did he just get asked out on a date? _Holy shit their babies were going to be beautiful._

“Uhhhh...” Stiles waved his hand in front of Derek's face, “Maybe give him a _double_ shot of espresso, m'kay Heather?”

The drink was _foul._ Derek wasn't a fan of sweet drinks, but his mate had given it to him so Derek forced it down while staring at him work. Stiles had provided it to him with a loud 'ta da!' and then scurried off to do his job. So. Not a date, and Derek had failed to make him reject him like he'd planned. Instead he was standing there staring at him like a stalker and waiting for the cops to be called.

Meanwhile the girl Heather kept giving him dirty looks and had twice hinted that the cafe was for paying customers. In response Derek had called out of work and settled in to stay the day. He was just thinking of buying a sandwich to settle his stomach after the too-sweet drink when the awful thing made his stomach _really_ twist up. Derek turned to look for the bathroom in the place, saw it was nearby, and stood up a bit too fast in his haste to get there.

The drink was just as pink and foamy coming up as it had been going down.

CHAPTER

“The _poor guy_ ,” Stiles gushed after Derek fled the building, “He was so nervous he puked!”

“He was chugging a sweet drink on an empty stomach after sitting in our parking lot for _hours_ like a serial killer,” Heather argued, frowning at Stiles, “He's a creep, Stiles! And he looks like he kicks puppies for fun!”

“No one that evil would _ever_ be my mate,” Stiles shook a finger at her, then clapped his hands over his mouth.

“You are not seriously _interested_ in that guy on a mate level?!” She shrieked, “You wouldn't even go out with me more than twice! Now you're picking out baby clothes?!”

“It's not you, it's that he _really is!”_ Stiles insisted, “Like, by scent! Not some silly fantasy! And you're awesome, Heather, but we weren't right, okay? I'm just loo-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” She waved a hand to stop his babble, “You serious here? He smells like your _mate?”_

Stiles nodded, biting his bottom lip, “You think he noticed, too?”

“No, Stiles!” She waved her arms and raised her voice, “I think he drank a drink he _clearly_ hated more than he hates smiling, way too fast, and puked all over my cafe _just for fun!”_

“Oh, no, that poor bastard,” Stiles groaned.

“That was sarcasm,” She snapped, “He noticed!”

“No, I got the sarcasm, I was just thinking of how hard his life is going to be with me as a mate, because honestly? I'm gonna take advantage of that.”

Heather giggled, trying to smother it. Stiles snickered. Then the two were laughing uproariously, leaning on each other as they babbled about times Stiles had made life difficult for people, including a time he'd made _another_ werewolf puke without even trying. Stiles had to get himself together soon though, because more customers piled into the store and Heather had drinks to make while they browsed. Stiles headed up front to check on the new guy who was scowling at him for some reason. He had been kind of curt with Stiles the day before but he was good with the customers so Stiles wasn't going to let clashing personalities bother him. He was used to people disliking him on sight.

“How you doing up here, Isaac?” Stiles asked, not letting his foul mood bother him.

“Haven't made anyone puke, so that's good.” Isaac griped.

“Yeah, the poor guy!” Stiles laughed, then sobered a bit, “I hope he's okay. He seems sort of... terrified of me. I'm not used to that. I mean, look at me! 147 lbs of pale skin and fragile bone, sarcasm is my only defense!”

“He doesn't seem like a guy who talks a lot, so maybe that's extra disarming,” Isaac said after a considering look.

“Maybe,” Stiles shrugged, “Either way, I feel bad about his stomach. Maybe he'll get over his crush and stay away now. My dad's always saying mates doesn't mean soulmates and we don't seem super compatible. I mean, he's kinda rude.”

“He... He might have gone through a lot of stuff, you don't know!” Isaac sputtered.

Stiles cocked his head to one side, “Wait, do you know him?”

Isaac rolled his eyes, but didn't answer. A sure sign of guilt.

“You do!!” Stiles exclaimed, “Why didn't you say anything! I could have used his _name_ instead of calling him Thor today!”

“Because he-”

The bell over the door jingled and Isaac winced hard. Stiles turned and as expected saw Mr. Hottness himself descending on him with a look of fury on his twisted features.

“You're coming with me,” He grunted out.

“Where ever to, oh enraged one?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow.

The guys face scrunched up further, as if he were forcing himself to speak, and when he finally did his heart was stuttering over the lie.

“To be claimed,” He growled, “Turn in your resignation while you're at it. You won't need to work anymore. You won't have time.”

“Lemme guess,” Stiles tilted one hip, his voice one of warning, “I'll be too busy spitting out kids and making you sandwiches.”

“Yes,” McFuckme nodded sharply, then visibly braced himself for Stiles' fury.

Stiles turned it on Isaac instead.

“You little _spy!”_ Stiles hissed _._

“Uh...” Isaac uttered.

“He's been through stuff, huh? Maybe some relationship stuff that makes him want to push me away? And you saw my bag and heard me talk about being a social justice warrior and you thought you'd hand him an easy way to brush me off, is that it?”

“I, uh...”

“Well, listen up, _both of you_. Stiles Stilinski does not _brush off_ easily. I'm not _dandruff_. I'm not going anywhere and you two had better get your shit together and start acting like adults instead of angsty teenagers in a teen melodrama show! Okay, Achilles, if you don't want me, say the words. Well? _Say it._ I'm a big boy, I can take it.”

Hottness blinked at him a few times, opened and shut his mouth like a fish, turned bright red and uttered: “You have to reject me.”

“Nope,” Stiles popped the word.

“If you don't I'll keep craving your scent.”

“Oh, poor baby, I can't _imagine_ what it's like to have the scent of another mess with your biology. Oh, wait, that's omega existence in a nutshell,” Stiles snarked.

“Then I'll keep coming back,” He warned, giving him an angry scowl.

“Good,” Stiles' smile had more fangs than teeth, “And every time you do I'll have a Legendary Frappucino waiting for you. Extra whipped cream.”

CHAPTER

Derek slunk off with his proverbial tail between his legs, humiliated and frustrated but with a certain pride blooming in him. His mate was smart, funny, complimented his caustic personality, and _vicious._ The problem was it made him want to push him away more. Derek Hale wasn't the right man for Stiles Stilinski (if that was even his real name) and he knew it. He couldn't even imagine what kind of science had decided that such a hilarious little shit deserved _him._

Derek headed home for a change, mostly to remind himself of why he was pushing his mate away. He climbed out of the Camaro, passed the Porche, then the four wheeler and motorcycle in the garage that were buried beneath parcels, entered the kitchen from the garage, and checked the fridge.

Nothing but booze. Typical.

Derek found their substantial menu collection and ordered himself some Chinese food. What he wouldn't give for a home cooked meal! Derek wasn't particularly talented outside of grilling, and he was too despondent to go to the effort. He knew he'd hear shit for ordering out again, but hey, at least he was home? Right?

Derek headed into the den where the shopping channel played 24/7 and the stench of nail polish never seemed to leave. Kate's ear glowed blue, reminding him that she wasn't free to chat, so he stood there and waited for her to acknowledge him. She was making non-commital sounds to whoever was on the other end of her Bluetooth headset, but eventually did glance his way with distant eyes. She frowned slightly and then told the other person to wait a moment.

“What?” She asked sharply, pointing in his direction to let him know she was speaking to him instead of one of her friends.

“Hi. I'm home.”

“Oh, were you gone long?” She asked, turning back to her toenails.

“Just three days,” Derek replied.

“Yeah, Jen, it's honestly the cutest thing. Marcy, did you find it? I sent you the link, pull it up! Geez, do I have to do everything for you bitches?”

Derek wandered away. There was virtually no access to the upstairs rooms thanks to Kate's hoard, and she had long ago given up spending time anywhere besides the downstairs bathroom and the living room where she slept. He'd installed a door at the top of the stairs so Kate's friends wouldn't see the massive stuff that was piled up to the ceiling if they glanced up, but soon a tower of crap had fallen and pinned the door shut. It was a lost cause anyway. Kate wouldn't part with her precious things, but she was also deeply ashamed of her hoarding so she didn't want to look at it. Just keep it. Own it. She had over a dozen storage units, all meticulously labeled and organized in case she actually had to visit them to get something out, which she never did. The downstairs was clear for socialzing, but that was the limit of her self control. Kate collected things and people and Derek had long ago realized there was no room in her heart for him. Her friends were vastly more important than he was, and she maintained her relationships with them through a system of _his_ money, her manipulation, and socialite power. To be fair, they got treated worse than he did, but that didn't mean that he didn't still crave the life they had before they'd married.

When Derek had first met her they hadn't been able to stop looking at each other. She'd been obsessed with him, constantly touching him somewhere, even casually. They'd called and texted each other all day long, annoying the hell out of Derek's family because even if she wasn't there he'd have a holo of her following him around the house. Eventually Talia had offered Derek their spring house in California, mostly so she wouldn't have to hear Kate's snide comments about how unfashionable their home was. They'd married in Vegas an hour later but had a huge wedding costing nearly half a million a year later in which he barely saw Kate because she was so busy schmoozing with the Hollywood starlets she'd invited. That was the first time he'd caught her cheating and it had broken his heart. She'd given him a long speech about how betas weren't supposed to settle down the way alphas had and he had to respect her. A few years later he'd just given up. Now he was just grateful that their house was too cluttered to invite her lovers over. Her friends would expect not to enter her bedroom, but a lover would eventually wonder why they only fucked in the downstairs portion of the house.

Derek had himself a room all to himself which he'd cleared of her hoard. It had led to a massive fight and was the first time she'd struck him, but he'd put a lock on the door and held the only key. It was his sanctuary within his hellhole of a home. However, the only area that was _his_ in his family's home had apparently been broken into. The lock was snapped clean off and Derek held his breath as he opened it, hoping that it wasn't hoarded all the way to the ceiling. As an area she could close off, it was fair game for her piles of mail order crap. Derek pushed the door open, surprised it swung open without hitting anything, and blinked into the darkened room while feeling distinctly sick to his stomach. The room stank of pot smoke, liquor, vomit, and _alphas._ There were two men passed out in the bed, arms around each other in their slumber, and Derek could tell they'd been on a particularly bad bender. He doubted they'd wake up even if he roared a challenge at them for fucking his wife in his own home. He shut the door instead. Nothing in there was worth actually _going_ into the room. He'd long ago started keeping his good shit at Erica's house. She was the only one in his pack who knew how Kate treated him and what kind of hell his life was.

Derek was fuming as he stalked back to the living room. He pulled one bluetooth earpiece out and glared daggers at her.

“Ugh, Derek's being a little baby again. I gotta go. I'll call you all back.”

She ended the call and stood up slowly with eyes smoldering with rage. Derek's stomach dropped out. He'd been so angry he hadn't thought about what would happen if he actually got her to get off the phone and address his rage. Now he was going to pay _dearly_ for what he'd just done.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” She asked, voice deceptively soft.

Derek swallowed hard and shook his head, “There are guys in my room. _My room._ The only room in the damn house that's mine. I thought we agreed you'd keep your affairs-”

Kate's clothes tore as she transformed, her form twisting into something vicious and unnatural. Her fur was dark, her eyes glowing yellow, and her claws sharper than even Derek's alpha claws. He could fight her off, he knew he could because he had in the past, but if he so much as _bruised_ her she'd go to the police. He'd already spent a month in jail because of her, and he didn't want to face that hell again. So he clenched his hands into fists and he took his lumps. He'd heal faster than she did anyway. It was his lot in life to deal with her abuse and he-

He had a choice.

_He had a choice._

By law, the second Derek met a possible mate who was omega he could divorce her with impunity. No more negotiations with lawyers, no more her demanding everything he had because of a trumped up charge of abuse when _she_ was the abuser. He wouldn't even have to get her to sign anything. She didn't have to, because his right to mate with an omega was considered top priority. He _did_ have to split things with her down the middle, it was only right not to abandon your previous pairing completely, but by now all of his things were gone. It was just the house, and he didn't want it anymore. It wasn't _his._

Halfway through the brutal onslaught Derek tore away from her, made it to the door, and out into the driveway. He was dripping blood, his clothes were torn, and he was shaking from head to toe from the realization he'd just had. Kate hissed at him from the door to come back inside, _the neighbors are watching_ but he couldn't even hear her over the desperation he had to get out and never come back.

“Divorce. We're divorced,” Derek grunted out, “I met my mate. Just... keep the house.”

Derek fled to the Camero and slammed the locks before pulling sharply out of the driveway. He could hear her screaming after him, all fears for appearances gone, but his ears were ringing too much to process the words. He just had to get away. He couldn't _do_ this anymore. He had to get the fuck away.

Derek was a block away when he realized something was truly wrong, but it was only a short moment later that he crashed the car into a telephone pole. Derek sat there, not quite sure what to do. He'd never had a car accident before. His reflexes were normally too fast and even when they weren't he wasn't normally impaired. Derek wiped at the blood on his face, and tilted the mirror to look at his reflection.

Kate had taken out one of his eyes and it wasn't healing.

CHAPTER

Stiles and Scott headed into the hospital while chattering happily. Stiles was exhausted from going to classes after work, but he had a standing date to hang out with Scott and Scott had to bring his mother food every time she worked a split shift, so Stiles was making it work despite exhausted. He was waiting at her main desk when an ambulance pulled in and to Stiles' absolute horror Hotty McFuckme was wheeled past him on a stretcher with his face a mess of blood. He wasn't conscious. Stiles felt his stomach swoop and a wave of anxiety had him gripping Scott's arm tightly.

“Stiles? You aren't going to puke, are you?”

“That was my him, Scott! That was my mate!” Stiles uttered just as Melissa hurried past.

“What did you say?” She asked.

“Th-that guy,” Stiles pointed after him, ignoring the fact that his hand was shaking violently, “He's my mate. We met two days ago. He's been, like, hate-flirting with me.”

“What is hate... never mind. Are you bonded to him?”

Stiles shook his head mutely and she bit her bottom lip.

“Just hang tight. There's not much information I can bring you if you two aren't bonded, but I'll do what I can. Okay?”

“Is he still alive?” Stiles asked, gripping Scott's shoulder tightly.

“So far,” She told him, “But you saw the state he was in. It doesn't look good.”

Melissa hurried away and Stiles wheezed and leaned against Scott harder, “Scott, he's going to die and I don't even know his name.”

“I mean, isn't that a good thing?” Scott pleaded, practically holding him up, “He's going to be out of your life and you won't even miss him.”

Stiles shook his head, “No, no, no, it doesn't _work_ that way, Scott! You... you have to help me get in to see him. They won't let me in after he's out of surgery without being his mate!”

“Okay, we'll figure this out,” Scott insisted, and tugged Stiles away from the front desk and into a waiting room where Stiles could quietly freak out in private.

A few hours later Stiles heard his father's voice in the hall and, having calmed significantly, hurried out to find him. He was talking to Melissa in low tones and Stiles snuck around the bend to listen in. Melissa saw him, but she let it go and continued explaining things to John.

“He had an injury go through his eye and into his brain. He was unconscious when he came in and quickly slipped into a coma. The surgeon said it looked like a claw puncture. We don't know if or when he'll wake up. If he does, he might have brain damage. At this point it's up in the air depending on his healing ability, which is iffy at best.”

“Good riddance,” John stated sharply.

“Excuse me?” Melissa's hands went on her hips.

“You didn't see what he did to the other person. She had wounds down to the _bone_ , and since he's an alpha they're going to take ages to heal. She's traumatized. Just keeps crying out that he's going to kill her.”

“I _know_ Derek,” Melissa told him softly, “And I know a victim of domestic abuse when I see it. If he did hurt her, it was after _years_ of her abusing the hell out of him. This isn't even his first eye injury. He was lucky not to lose his eye last time.”

“All due respect, Melissa,” John argued gently, “But I know abusers and victims, too. We've arrested him for this before. He beats up on her regularly. Apparently she has a shopping addiction and he's not too fond of it.”

Melissa scowled and shook her head, “She's messing with you guys. He's the victim. I _know_ this, John. I've seen her too and she's a grade A sociopath. Don't fall for her shit.”

“Well, I guess we'll let a jury decide,” John stated, “He'll be going away for a long time for this.”

Stiles frowned and shook his head. He loved both of them, but he knew his dad could be closed minded and Melissa knew her shit where people were concerned. His dad was all about rules and evidence though, and he wouldn't just jump to conclusions. Stiles had to see the reports, but there was no way his dad would let him get away with shit the way Melissa did. Stiles gestured to Scott who nodded and went into the waiting room. Stiles slipped away in the opposite direction and slid into Melissa's workspace and Scott began to wheeze loudly, causing the perfect distraction. Stiles found Derek's file quickly, located his room, and then bolted around the corner, snatched the police file from his father's hand, and took off running.

“Hey! Stiles! Damn it! Get back here!” His father shouted after him.

“Lower your voice!” Melissa scolded, “People are sleeping!”

He wouldn't chase him. They both knew Stiles was faster than him, and the guy had been worn down _years_ ago by Stiles' antics. Once Stiles turned 18 and spent most of his time at University he'd completely given up on disciplining him. He'd just get the file back from him later, telling him off, and then sigh hard and look disappointed. Stiles could handle that. In the mean time, he was a criminology student with a _police file._

Stiles slipped into a closet, took pictures of every page, and started studying them right there by phone flashlight just in case the pictures he took weren't detailed enough. He could immediately tell whoever had slashed up Kate Hale so severely hadn't done so alone. There were two different shoe treads on the floor in the pools of blood. His father likely hadn't looked over the evidence yet or he'd have seen this as well. Sadly there were no pictures of Derek's shoes in the folder, so they were probably still being logged into evidence. What he had now was a quick print out meant to interrogate Derek Hale with when he woke up so that John could get a confession.

Stiles decided to see what other evidence was on Derek. He found the room quickly, but of course his dad was already there.

“Stiles, what the hell?” John sighed.

“He's my mate, dad, and he's innocent,” Stiles held up the file, “There are two different shoe prints in the blood, and neither of them are the dress shoes I saw Derek in that day.”

“You can't claim mate status,” John snapped as he snatched the file back, “You weren't claimed.”

Stiles didn't answer. He was stunned into silence because his eyes had just fallen on Derek Hale. Derek was bandaged up and had tubes all over him. Stiles took a moment to feel sick and vulnerable and afraid for him, questioned his insanity for even _caring_ about a guy he'd had a handful of interactions with, and then moved forward to speak softly to him.

“Okay, big guy. Come on. Wake up. Give me something to go on here. Breathe that in? I'm your _mate._ Wake up for me. Come on, hot stuff. _Wake up.”_

“Stiles,” John tugged on Stiles' arm, “Breathe, kiddo.”

Stiles realized he was hyperventilating, and also _shaking_ the guy in the coma, and let his dad drag him back. Stiles let out a slow breath and shook his head. This wasn't a sitcom. He wasn't going to wake up just because Stiles was _mooning_ over him.

John dragged him out into the hall while Stiles tried to look over his shoulder back into the room. He wanted back in that room. He wanted to be near the man who smelled like home. He _needed_ to take care of him. How the hell couldn't they understand that? They kept talking at him but Stiles wasn't answering. He couldn't _speak._ He tried, but nothing came out. His words just kept getting blocked and Stiles had several minutes of terror in which he was convinced that he was experiencing some sort of sympathy coma symptoms.

Doctors were called over at some point and Stiles was admitted, given a lot of sedatives, and told to rest. He couldn't. His anxiety was so high that the meds made him loopy but didn't put him to sleep for more than an hour. He woke up with a shaky gasp and struggled upright. His heart was still pounding in his chest. It was the strangest feeling, being floaty from the drugs but also hyper focused on getting back to Derek. He had to reach him. _He had to._

Stiles changed back into his work clothes, shaking as he did so, stuffed a pillow and some blankets into the bed to hide the fact he'd left, and slipped out the door. He was on a different floor and felt like he couldn't breathe the entire way down to the floor Derek was on and into his room. He had to dodge Melissa, but her co-workers were used to his antics and didn't blink when the saw him sneaking around. One of them even giggled. They had no idea that he was supposed to be in a bed upstairs. Melissa's discretion had worked in his favor this time.

Stiles slipped into Derek's room, relieved that he hadn't been moved, and gently took his hand.

“Okay, Derek... geez, I know your name now. Okay, Derek, I've got to do something super non-con if you don't wake up this time. If you never do it won't matter and I'll take a pill someday to counter it, but if you wake up you might be mad. Problem is, I can't do _anything_ for you without your mark on my neck. Dad will see through Kate's ruse, but since you haven't bonded with me she can just _walk in here and take you out_ , and she's, like, halfway there. If I do this... this _super wrong thing_ than... than I can protect you.”

Stiles reached out and stroked his fingers through his hair, letting out a choked sob when his fingers came back with brown powder all over his hands. Dried blood. Stiles leaned down and nuzzled Derek's nose gently, trying to get him to breathe in his scent despite the fact that he had tubes in his nose and mouth. Derek still didn't wake up so Stiles let out a slow breath and gently pried the medical tape off that was surrounding the tube in Derek's mouth. He did everything he could to stop the tube from shifting, but he still gagged a bit.

“Sorry, sorry!” Stiles whispered, glancing over his shoulder cautiously.

Stiles grabbed some bandages from the cart nearby, glad he'd learned Melissa's codes ages ago so that he could open them when needed. He steeled himself for the pain and leaned over Derek. The angle was nearly impossible. He had to practically lay on his face and shove at his lower jaw to get enough leverage to break the skin and puncture the gland beneath it. Then he had to press on the gland to drain it into Derek's mouth, swearing under his breath at how _gross_ the process was. He leaned back to massage his throat and work the fluids down only to see Derek's eyes open. For a moment Stiles thought he'd _woken_ up, but the eyes tracked around the room and then closed again. There were no machine klaxons going off or changes in the monitors. He'd responded in some way, but not actually woken up. It could be instinct over the taste of his mate's bonding fluids, or it could be random firing of brain cells, or perhaps the healing abilities Melissa had mentioned kicking in at last. Either way, he wasn't moving or gagging and that seemed more important than eye wandering.

Stiles cleaned up Derek's face, rubbed at his throat in the hopes of getting the fluids down it without causing him to breathe it in, and then reached for more bandages to wrap the wound on his neck. Stiles nearly choked on his tongue when he felt his pack suddenly vanish from his mind. It was dizzying and if Stiles hadn't known it would happen he would have freaked out again. Instead he felt the steady replacement by the person before him. Derek Hale was officially his alpha, his mate, and his sole packmate.

It hurt in a different way than the bite that he'd been too flustered to notice the pain of. He'd just lost the connection to his father, his best friend, and Melissa. It didn't feel great, but it felt necessary. It felt right. Never mind that it was _super non-con_ and he could go to jail if Derek decided to press charges. Or any of his current or last pack pointed out that he hadn't made the switch until AFTER Derek were comatose. To that point, Stiles did what he could to hide his crime. He powered up his healing first, forcing it to focus on the bite on his neck and heal it so it looked like an alpha had bit him two days ago instead of two minutes. It wasn't supposed to work this way, but Stiles knew it could be manipulated but at great cost. Sure enough, Stiles felt weak in seconds and sank into the chair by Derek's bed. He panted in exhaustion, checked his mark, decided it was good enough to pass, and texted Scott first.

**Stiles: SYM.**

(Shut your mouth)

**Scott: ARE YOU OKAY!?**

**Stiles: I'm fine. SYM and ST.**

(Shut your mouth and stop texting)

Then he texted Isaac from his work .

**Stiles: Can you have the pack second contact me? I'm at the hospital with Derek and want to relay to them any updated info I get, but I can't find his phone. I think the police have it. The nurse asked me for numbers, but I've been in his pack for, like, two days and don't know anyone besides you.**

**Unknown Number: This is Erica. I'm Derek's second. You took his bite? When? Last I heard he wasn't going to accept you.**

**Stiles: What can I say? I'm irresistible. Can we discuss how he's putty in my hands later? They're saying he won't wake up.**

**Erica: HE'S DEAD?!**

**Stiles: No!**

**Stiles: Sorry!**

**Stiles: He's in a coma. I thought you knew? Maybe they thought because they talked to the mate they talked to the second, but I'm not fully in the pack yet so they should have called you.**

**Erica: Well, what the fuck happened?!**

**Stiles: His ex-wife tried to claw out his eyes and hit his brain in the process. They're saying he might not wake up. I'm not leaving his side.**

**Erica: That bitch. She's going to try to make it look like he started it!**

**Stiles: Yeah, she already has. No way do I believe that.**

**Erica: I told him you were right for him. That ass. He'd better wake up so I can tell him how wrong he was!**

**SECOND ATTEMPT**

“No, no, I don't care about that,” He shook his head, “It's just... you know you're worth more than your eyes, right?”

Stiles' eyes flashed. They always did around his dad, whenever he brought them up, despite the fact that Stiles had _monumental_ control over them in nearly every other situation.

“You promised we wouldn't talk about that again.”

“Stiles, please, just hear me out.”

“No!”

“Scott was _wrong!”_

The cup in Stiles' hand shattered and John swore, grabbing it to make sure he hadn't cut himself. He as unharmed. Just out of coffee and the energy to have this conversation again.

“We done here?” Stiles' voice was ice cold.

John let out a slow breath and headed for the door to the garage where his cruiser was parked without saying goodbye.

CHAPTER

It wouldn't be hard to get the guy to reject him, of this Derek was sure. He'd already given him a shitty first impression, had it under good authority that he looked like a felon, and was of a mind to get rid of him fast. All he had to do was be himself, plus add in some sort of obnoxious thing he'd heard on the internet. Like say something sexist. That would do it. Fast.

So Derek fed the meter while waiting in his car until the sign was flipped to open. Despite knowing the hours he'd been there two hours before it opened and was fully aware that he was already obsessed, thank you very much. How the hell did alphas behave themselves around omegas? He'd never had a reason to wonder before now. Sure, they smelled like sex incarnate, were always aroused when they smelled an alpha nearby, and had a body part that could literally _wring orgasms from an alpha,_ but they were still PEOPLE. You didn't just start humping them. However, one sniff of Stiles and Derek was turning into a neandertal. He'd never felt so out of control in his life and he hated it. It made him insecure, and he hated being insecure. He was 26 years old, he didn't _do_ insecure around omegas anymore! Derek told himself this repeatedly as he walked up to the door, yanked it open a _bit_ too hard, and stomped towards the front desk.

Isaac was on shift and pointed towards Stiles with a knowing nod. Isaac was in Derek's pack and the only reason he'd bothered to come into a store instead of buy online. His packmate had been going on about the cute shop and his knew job and Derek had wanted to support him. Isaac had a past and Derek was proud of him for stepping out of his comfort zone and getting a job. When he'd heard that Derek was hot for the guy training him he'd rolled his eyes hard.

“ _Derek, that guy is annoying as hell. He literally never shuts up. You'll hate him the second you get passed his smell. Trust me, you've made the right call. You don't want that in your life,” Isaac insisted._

“ _Uh, wait a sec,” Erica argued with hands on hips, “Are you saying he talks a lot? Like our alpha does NOT? What's that saying about opposites attract?”_

“ _Fake and ridiculous?” Isaac suggested, “You just want another omega around here, but this guy is_ not _right for Derek!”_

“ _Or maybe having someone to complete you and fill in the rough patches is a good thing!” Erica pointed out._

“ _Derek only has rough patches. There's not enough of that skinny guy to cover them,” Isaac pointed out._

“ _This is irrelevant, because I do not want to mate!” Derek snapped, “Just tell me how to get rid of him, Isaac? I need a rejection to get him out of my head.”_

“ _Just say something sexist. The guy has pins from, like, every social justice group ever on his bag. He's going on about how we might have laws for equality but not attitudes or some shit. Order him to date you and he'll get all offended. It will be easy.”_

“ _This is a huge mistake,” Erica pleaded._

“ _No, it's not.” Derek stated firmly, ending the discussion with a glare._

“Oh my gods and goddesses,” The guy Isaac had informed Derek was named Stiles was actually _moaning_ over a sticky sweet smelling drink from the cafe, “Seriously, Heather, you're a goddess on that machine. Aphrodite couldn't make a more satisfying drink. I think I need to change my lube pad. I'm _that_ gone on this thing. What did you call it?”

“There's a customer right behind you,” The girl from the cafe giggled.

“That's a _terrible_ name,” Stiles told her, then turned around and froze with eyes wide in horror, “Oh, shit, it's Thor!”

Derek blinked and the part of him that was jealous _of a pink coffee drink_ snarled out something his lizard brain thought was witty in an effort to impress his mate. Apparently that great flirting ability? Yeah, right out the window in the face of his mate.

“Wrong country.”

“What?” He asked.

“Aphrodite was a _Greek_ goddess. Thor is a Norse god. Different country. You could go with Odysseus?”

“Cheated on his mate but expected her to be faithful for a solid decade?” Stiles replied with big, innocent, wide eyes as he sucked on a straw like a cock.

This was what he'd wanted. A fight. Instead a part of him curled up and whimpered at having given his mate the impression he'd _ever_ be unfaithful. Derek felt _sick_ and immediately tried to recover the conversation.

“I was thinking... well known so... I mean, it seems a little pompous to call myself a _god_ or... Uh. Achilles?”

What the hell? Derek was _not this awkward._ Derek wasn't even _a little_ awkward. He was, as Erica was wont to say, a smooth operator!

The guy winked at him and licked whipped cream off of his upper lip, “So where's _your_ weak spot?”

_Pretty sure I'm staring at it._ Derek thought, but instead just scowled at him. It was his default look.

“Oh my gosh, you're so adorable when you're flustered,” Stiles blushed up to the roots of his hair and Derek gave him a weak and disoriented smile. Stiles had thrown him for a loop and he wasn't sure where the conversation was going now, “Look at you! I've decided to call that scowl your 'Loading Screen'. Better give me an actual name so it doesn't stick as one.”

Derek opened his mouth to tell the guy his name on reflex, because honestly, whatever Stiles wanted? _He was going to get it._ How the hell had he thought he could get rid of him? Every interaction made him want him more. However, before he could get the first letter out, the guy plowed ahead with more chatter.

“How about I buy you one of these _legendary_ drinks to apologize for my lewd comment earlier?”

Stiles sucked on the straw hard enough to hollow his cheeks, making Derek's cock _ache_ with need. Derek's inner wolf freaked the fuck out. His mate wanted to buy him something. His mate was buying him coffee. His mate was providing for him. Was this a date? Did he just get asked out on a date? _Holy shit their babies were going to be beautiful._

“Uhhhh...” Stiles waved his hand in front of Derek's face, “Maybe give him a _double_ shot of espresso, m'kay Heather?”

The drink was _foul._ Derek wasn't a fan of sweet drinks and this thing tasted like a milkshake with marshmallow syrup, but his mate had given it to him so Derek forced it down while staring at him work. Stiles had handed it to him with a loud 'ta da!' and then scurried off to do his job before Derek could get the word 'thank you' out. So. Not a date, and Derek had failed to make him reject him like he'd planned. Instead he was perched on a stool staring at him like a stalker and waiting for the cops to be called.

Meanwhile, the beta Heather kept giving him dirty looks and had twice hinted that the cafe was for paying customers. In response Derek had called out of work, stubbornly decided _not_ to buy food even though he _really_ needed something salty to settle his stomach after the evil drink, and settled in to stay the day. Stiles kept looking over at him and that only added to his butterflies. He was just considering giving in to the barista and getting a sandwich when the awful thing made his stomach _really_ twist up. Derek turned to look for the bathroom in the place, saw it was nearby, and stood up a bit too fast in his haste to get there.

The drink was just as pink and foamy coming up as it had been going down.

CHAPTER

“The _poor guy_ ,” Stiles gushed after Derek fled the building, “He was so nervous he puked!”

“He was chugging a sweet drink on a probably empty stomach after sitting in our parking lot for _hours_ like a serial killer,” Heather argued, frowning at Stiles, “He's a creep, Stiles! And he looks like he kicks puppies for fun!”

“No one that evil would _ever_ be my mate,” Stiles shook a finger at her, then clapped his hands over his mouth.

“You are not seriously _interested_ in that guy on a mate level?!” She shrieked, “You wouldn't even go out with me more than twice! Now you're picking out baby clothes?!”

“It's not you, it's that he _really is!”_ Stiles insisted, “Like, by scent! Not some silly fantasy! And you're awesome, Heather, but we weren't right, okay? I'm just loo-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” She waved a hand to stop his babble, “You serious here? He smells like your _mate?”_

Stiles nodded, biting his bottom lip, “You think he noticed, too?”

“No, Stiles!” She waved her arms and raised her voice, “I think he drank a drink he _clearly_ hated more than he hates smiling, way too fast, and puked all over my cafe _just for fun!”_

“Oh, no, that poor bastard,” Stiles groaned.

“That was sarcasm,” She snapped, “He noticed!”

“No, I got the sarcasm, I was just thinking of how hard his life is going to be with me as a mate, because honestly? I'm gonna take advantage of that.”

Heather giggled, trying to smother it. Stiles snickered. Then the two were laughing uproariously, leaning on each other as they babbled about times Stiles had made life difficult for people, including a time he'd made _another_ werewolf puke without even trying. Stiles had to get himself together soon though, because more customers piled into the store and Heather had drinks to make while they browsed.

After a few hours of heavy work they finally hit a lull and Stiles headed up front to check on the new guy. Isaac was scowling at him for some reason. He had been kind of curt with Stiles the day before but the guy was good with the customers so Stiles wasn't going to let clashing personalities bother him. He was used to people disliking him on sight, apparently including his potential mate.

“How you doing up here, Isaac?” Stiles asked, not letting his foul mood bother him.

“Haven't made anyone puke, so that's good.” Isaac griped.

“Yeah, the poor guy!” Stiles laughed, then sobered a bit, “I hope he's okay. He seems sort of... terrified of me. I'm not used to that. I mean, look at me! 147 lbs of pale skin and fragile bone, sarcasm is my only defense!”

“He doesn't seem like a guy who talks a lot, so maybe that's extra disarming,” Isaac said after a considering look.

“Maybe,” Stiles shrugged, “Either way, I feel bad about his stomach. Maybe he'll get over his crush and stay away now. My dad's always saying mates doesn't mean soulmates and we don't seem super compatible. I mean, he's kinda rude.”

“He... He might have gone through a lot of stuff, you don't know!” Isaac sputtered.

Stiles cocked his head to one side, “Wait, do you know him?”

Isaac rolled his eyes, but didn't answer. A sure sign of guilt.

“You do!!” Stiles exclaimed, “Why didn't you say anything? I could have used his _name_ instead of calling him Thor today!”

“Because he-”

The bell over the door jingled and Isaac winced hard without even turning to look. So he didn't just _know_ him, he was in his pack no less! Stiles turned and as expected saw Mr. Hottness McFuckme himself descending on him with a look of fury on his twisted features.

“You're coming with me,” He grunted out, probably not as loudly as he'd intended based on the tone of voice.

“Where ever to, oh enraged one?” Stiles asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

The guys face scrunched up further, as if he were forcing himself to speak, and when he finally did his heart was stuttering over the lie.

“To be claimed,” He growled, “Turn in your resignation while you're at it. You won't need to work anymore. You won't have time.”

“Lemme guess,” Stiles tilted one hip, his tone one of warning, “I'll be too busy shitting out kids and making you sandwiches.”

“Yes,” McFuckme nodded sharply, then visibly braced himself for Stiles' fury.

Stiles turned it on Isaac instead.

“You little _spy!”_ Stiles hissed _._

“Uh...” Isaac uttered.

“He's been through stuff, huh? Maybe some relationship stuff that makes him want to push me away? And you saw my bag and heard me talk about being a social justice warrior and you thought you'd hand him an easy way to brush me off, is that it?”

“I, uh...”

“Well, listen up, _both of you_. Stiles Stilinski does not _brush off_ easily. I'm not _dandruff_. I'm not going anywhere just to make things easier for you, and you two had better get your shit together and start acting like adults instead of angsty teenagers in a teen melodrama show! Okay, Achilles,” Stiles turned that rage on Derek this time, and the brick wall of an alpha werewolf actually _backed up a step, “_ If you don't want me, say the words. Well? _Say it._ Reject me, if you want to. I'm a big boy; I can take it.”

Hottness blinked at him a few times, opened and shut his mouth like a fish, scowled hard enough to shatter glass, and uttered: “ _You_ have to reject _me_.”

“Nope,” Stiles popped the word.

“If you don't I'll keep craving your scent.” He gestured to Stiles angrily.

“Oh, poor baby. I can't _imagine_ what it's like to have the scent of another mess with your biology. Oh, wait, that's omega existence in a nutshell,” Stiles snarked.

“Then I'll keep coming back,” He warned, hands clenching into fists, “If you w-”

“Good,” Stiles' smile had more fangs than teeth, “And every time you do I'll have a Legendary Frappucino waiting for you. Extra whipped cream.”

CHAPTER

Derek slunk off with his proverbial tail between his legs, humiliated and frustrated but with a certain pride blooming in him. His mate was smart, funny, complimented his caustic personality, and _vicious._ He couldn't even imagine what kind of science had decided that such a hilarious little shit deserved _him._ He wanted to go back and ask him out like a proper gentleman, but he couldn't figure out how to do that after not one, but _four_ false starts! He was fairly certain he'd blown it, but what could he do? Not go back? He was going to climb the walls from wanting him!

The problem was, Stiles was now more interesting to him than ever before. When he'd first met him he must have scared him into babbling- understandable given his resting rage face- because this time he'd been intelligent, witty, and sexy as hell. Derek had gotten hard the second Stiles had cocked his hip to sass him instead of getting teary, scared, throwing a tantrum, or, worse yet, being hot for Derek's false chauvinism. He hadn't expected the guy to look him in the eyes, sass him, then figure him out so completely. He wasn't sure how much of it was something Isaac had said, but he doubted he'd let much slip because Isaac was a very private guy. Instead, his mate had _figured him out._ Derek's own family couldn't claim that.

Derek ended up heading back to his loft where he moved the laundry from his wash to his dryer, frowning at the pink stains on his white undershirt that hadn't come out. He tossed it in the trash.

Isaac came home with Erica in toe. They must have met up in the hallway on their way up, because Erica worked in the complete opposite direction. Erica was laughing hysterically, so Isaac must have filled her in on his disaster that day. Derek rolled his eyes and braced himself for relentless teasing.

“Oh my gosh, _why_ weren't you filming?!” Erica cackled.

“I didn't know he'd puke!” Isaac laughed.

“You knew he'd humiliate himself, _why weren't you filming?!_ Asshole!”

“You're the asshole!” Isaac giggled shoving her back, “He was going there to get rejected by his mate, I didn't think it would be funny humiliating, I thought it would be _sad_ humiliating.”

They both sobered at that and then focused in on Derek, two adorable looks of concern on their idiot faces. Derek sighed hard, rubbed at the bridge between his nose, and looked off to one side before grumbling out a statement that he knew he'd regret.

“I'm going to court him.”

“YES!!” Erica shrieked, punching the air.

Isaac just smiled softly and nodded, apparently happy to go with whatever Derek decided.

“So now what?” Erica asked, “Because I gotta tell you, puking is a huge turn off. Even for omegas.”

Erica hopped up on a bar stool in their kitchen and Derek joined her, turning to face her. He'd never once regretted his choice in bringing Erica into his pack, even though more than a few of his siblings and cousins had scoffed at bringing an _omega_ into his pack without them being mated first. It was a bit scandalous. People assumed he was bedding her _constantly,_ but it couldn't be further from the truth. Erica was a lesbian: an omega who was only attracted to other omegas. She had come to Derek via a rights group that helped gay omegas fleeing from abusive homes find safe packs. He actually had a legally binding contract promising to _never_ touch her. It wasn't even able to be renegotiated. The archaic belief of Alpha Breeding Rights for Pack Alphas that lorded over any omega- claimed or otherwise- in a pack from hundreds of years ago was considered dubious at best anyways, but in Derek's case it would be flat out rape if he laid a hand on her. Erica had gone from his charity project, a way to improve himself and make himself feel better about having been an ass as a teen, to his _very_ best friend. He valued her opinion and chattered with her constantly, one of the few people he felt he could have long conversations with.

“Okay, so after that he didn't reject me. I flat out asked him to and he didn't. Why? What the hell is stopping him?” Derek asked, “I'd have rejected me, and I've seen me naked in a mirror!”

“Ew. Also, I'm not surprised. From what Isaac has told me, he's a stroppy, stubborn drama queen with an almost neurotic need to collect information and spew it out at people. Derek... your eyes just glazed over. Woohoo! Wake up!”

“He flails his hands when he talks,” Derek told her.

“And?”

“His fingers are _insanely long.”_

“Double ew!!” Erica grimaced, “Please do not _ever_ think of his fingers in your ass while you're talking to me. Holy shit! STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT RIGHT NOW!”

“He's in my _head_ , Erica!” Derek groaned, putting his head in his hands, “I can't get his smell out of his nose and he's so fucking _cute_ with his button nose and his beauty marks and-”

“Who the fuck are you?!” Erica shrieked, “Button nose and- okay. Okay. I can work with this. You're clearly overwhelmed and need a reality check. So here it is. You. Don't. Know. Him. I know you're used to rescuing strays so you usually just give them a sniff and adopt them for life, but this is a different kind of scent thing. You're not smelling his _emotions._ You're not picking up on abuse or past trauma or a fear he needs you to soothe. You're picking up on pheromones. He's not going to gratefully fall into your arms and stay for good. You need to win him over, not just pick him up and say 'here's my house, that's your room'. Or... you know, show him your room. Whatever.”

“You really need to not talk about showing him my room if you don't want me to start picturing him in my bed,” Derek grouched.

“Right, sorry, my bad. Look... you need to _get to know him._ Don't plow into this like you do everything else you do from philanthropy to pack to that dinner you destroyed like it insulted your mother last night.”

“It was _venison!”_

“A date, Derek. Not a shag, no matter how much you want/need it. _Talk to the boy.”_

“He's not a boy, he's a man,” Derek gut-reacted.

“Oh no, he has a baby face, doesn't he?”

“Isaac says he's in college so he's most likely legal,” Derek replied miserably.

“Yeah, check that ID before you tap that wallet,” Erica nodded, pursing her lips together, “I need a drink for this conversation. You want a drink?”

“If you're making acotini's I'm drinking.”

“Ugh, we need to do our omega talk more often,” Erica insisted, jumping up to get the blender out, “Also, _please_ bring home an omega for me to spend time with? I love the fact that you let me paint your nails and drink fru-fru drinks with me, but let's not split hairs here: this place needs more omegas.”

“This place needs more betas and alphas, too,” Derek pointed out, “My pack's too small. Do you think he'll think my pack's too small?”

“It never ceases to amaze me how you alphas equate pack with package.”

“I'm serious, Erica,” Derek leaned forward on the island the stools sat beside, clasping his hands as he glared at her with an angry scowl, “You couldn't leave an _abusive home_ without a pack. Omegas _need packs_ and mine has one alpha, one beta, and one omega. None of us mated, none of us mentally stable.”

“Derek,” Erica turned the blender on, shutting out the convo for a moment, and then continued it while pouring, “Everyone needs a pack. This is a fact. You need a pack. Isaac needs a pack. That's why he couldn't leave his dad. That's why you had to fix your dumb ass so you could start building one or suffer through staying in your mommy's pack for the rest of your life.”

“Hey, I love my mommy,” Derek snickered.

It was a long standing joke that he was a huge momma's boy. He absolutely loved her and called her every other day despite the fact he'd formed his own pack. The benefit of having the packmates he had now was that they knew and loved him for it. Erica teased him lightly, but absolutely lived for dinner at his mom's house. Isaac looked up to her as some kind of goddess. Derek wasn't sure if he'd ever even spoken to her despite being in his pack for the last four years.

“I'm serious, Erica,” Derek spoke softly as she put the drink in front of him, “What if I'm not good enough for him? What if he's my mate, but I'm not his? What if-”

“What if he sets your car on fire and then breaks into the apartment with a spare key he made behind your back and you find him trying to figure out how to set a gas fire with an electric oven?”

“He's too smart for that,” Derek groaned, “We wouldn't survive this one.”

“Derek,” Erica sat down across from him, “You're forgiven.”

“What?” He looked up sharply.

“You're forgiven.”

“For... what? Did I say something sexist or...?”

“No, you big sacrificial lamb, you,” Erica sighed, tapping the side of her glass with two sharp, perfectly manicured nails, “You've spent _years_ atoning for being an asshole as a teenager. Do you know how many teenagers are assholes?”

Derek's response was a soft grumble.

“ALL OF THEM.” Erica slapped a hand down on the table, making Derek jump.

“Erica...” Derek started sofly.

“NO!” She slapped it again and Derek absolutely did _not_ jump this time, “Derek. You. Are. Forgiven. You're forgiven for being a spoiled, entitled, sex obsessed little rich alpha dick! Derek, you have spent an _unhealthy_ amount of time trying to make up for being human. Yeah, you were a dick. I get that. You're probably the story a _lot_ of omegas and betas tell their friends when complaining about how awful that one guy was.”

“Is there a point, or...?”

“Stop atoning, Derek,” She insisted, “You've done enough. I mean, sure, keep being nice, but stop sacrificing yourself like you murdered someone instead of just did a few people dirty, okay? You aren't less worthy of your mate because you have a body count and a normal- for a rich guy- childhood, Derek.”

Derek stared down at his folded hands on the table and stayed silent. His head and heart were in turmoil. He knew what Erica was saying made sense, but he had a difficulty putting it in perspective. Yeah, he knew that most of those people had likely moved on and were probably happily married by now. Hell, he was more than a bit jealous of them. There were a couple he regretted failing. He'd had a connection with them and had basically ripped it apart with his teeth. Now he had a connection with this young man and he desperately needed to not fuck it up.

“So how do I do that?” Derek asked softly, “How do I... talk to him? I can only talk to you. It's not even an omega thing. I'm a disaster, Erica.”

“Okay, this is not something I want you to take as a bad thing, but... you need to talk to a therapist, Derek. You really, really do. It's not a judgement thing. It's a love thing. You need to talk to someone who can actually give you advice, not just acotinis.”

“You do give me advice.”

“Yeah, but not the kind of advice that you _need_. Not coping skills. Not healing, Derek. You need to see someone because what you've been through wasn't your fault. Yeah, you fucked up with your first few dates, but the ones after that? Derek, you went _full_ throttle from burning your own relationships down to dating people who would do it to _you._ You're punishing yourself still. You're not just trying to make up for being a douche by dousing everyone with money and attention, you're _actively harming yourself._ Isaac and I tried to warn you away from the last two relationships because they started abusing you hard a few months in and you just... let them.”

“Isaac tried to warn me away from _this_ one, too.”

“Because he knows your track record and he's scared for you,” Erica put one hand over his clasped hands, “He likes Stiles. He thinks the guy's annoyingly endearing, and so do you. If you end up together they'll pick on each other constantly. It will be _so_ annoying. I might move out.”

Erica smiled softly and Derek gave her a wan smile in return, “Doesn't therapy take years? What's he going to do? Wait for me?”

“No, Derek,” Erica sighed and turned back to her drink, “You are going to march down to that book store and ask him out. You're going to take it slow, be a gentlealpha, and treat him like a prince. If for some reason he doesn't treat you right, you'll chalk it up to the fact that some people are assholes and stop internalizing your bad relationships into some sort of cosmic punishment.”

Derek let out a slow breath, “Promise you'll hold my hand and not make fun of me for being a complete wimp?”

“You're not a wimp, Derek,” Erica leaned over the counter, breasts practically spilling out of her shirt, and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “You're my alpha, and I love you too much to let you hurt yourself anymore. Promise you'll listen to us? Pack goes both ways, you know?”

“Promise.”

“So. Talk to him. Respect him. Love him if he's worth it but not if he isn't. Okay?”

“Okay. Talk to him. Respect him. Love him if he's worth it, but not if he isn't. Got it.”

“There's my alpha.”

CHAPTER

So it turned out Stiles didn't open his eyes during sex.

Derek didn't mean to find that out so fast. He was _going_ to take Erica's advice, he really, really was. He went back to the book shop, but Stiles wasn't in. Isaac had given Derek Stiles' schedule, so he _should_ have been there, but had apparently switched shifts with another associate and it hadn't been written down. Everyone knew but Isaac, who was the new guy and not quite in the loop yet. So Derek waited around until the coffee woman called him a stalker, threatened to call the cops, and then got pissed when he called her 'coffee woman' to her face. In his defense, she had her nametag _right_ next to her cleavage and Derek wasn't going to take any risks. If Stiles saw him look he might think Derek was the unfaithful sort. Again.

When the cops _did_ get called his excuse that he was courting a mate fell on deaf ears. Said mate wasn't here and hadn't given Derek notice to advance. He was squatting at the person's place of business. It was creepy and even Derek could see it. So he stomped out of the building and back to his car to see Stiles standing there, staring at his black Camaro with his mouth open and his eyes glazed. He was half a step from humping it and Derek was going to get jealous of a _lot_ of things if this pattern kept up.

It was probably the anger at seeing Stiles look at something else the way he wanted to be looked at by the omega. It was probably having talked about his shitty past with Erica the previous day. It was definitely because he had zero self esteem despite being gorgeous and rich and threw those two things around to compensate for it. Whatever it was, he stepped up to Stiles, got _way_ to close for polite company, and breathed heat into his ear when he spoke.

“You want to go for a ride?”

Stiles' breath rattled out of his body and Derek saw his entire body wobble as his knees buckled. He caught him around the waist with one hand, pulling him flush against Derek's body- pressing his ass against his burgeoning erection. It was all so cliché. It was such a very old dance. Something he was comfortable with because he'd done it time and again. Flash cash and show off his perfect body and he'd get them for a minute. An hour. A night. Never a day. Never during the day, because by day his flaws were on display. Once an omega saw him for who he truly was, once their eyes were open, they never came back again.

So why was he fucking an omega in the back seat of his car and actually asking him to do the one thing that he knew would ruin things?

“Open your eyes, Stiles.”

“ _Harder!”_

CHAPTER

Stiles had a thing for cars. He usually preferred bigger ones, like trucks and jeeps, but oooooh boy, was that sports car a pretty, pretty omega. Like, uh, Stiles was gay for that car. Soooo gay.

Then the scent that kept haunting him filled his nose, wet heat teased his neck and ear, and a voice offered him... something. Stiles wasn't really listening because his underwear was suddenly _soaking wet_ and his legs went out from under him. Every instinct in his body was screaming _present your ass,_ and Stiles' brain had already decided that if he got the chance he'd jump on that pogo stick like he was trying to reach the moon. So when a steel band of an arm went around his waist he reached up, grabbed the hair at the back of his head, and turned his head to press their lips together right there on the sidewalk. Hottness muscled him into the front seat of the car, dropped into the driver's side, and cut some poor guy off speeding out of the parking space. Stiles had his hand on the gear shift beneath McFuckme's and it felt like it was connected to his cock. He was so hard up for it he was panting and arching in the seat as if he were in heat. Hell, he might have been on his way there. Mock heats happened when an alpha was courting. A way to draw them in and the reason he _really_ should have rejected the guy and cut the chemical connection from the door.

Except he didn't want to reject him. He wanted him to bodily drag him into the back seat, shred his clothes with his claws, and start working marks into his neck and shoulder-- what he could reach around the collar blocking Stiles' mating gland.

Stiles had never wanted it off more, but he wasn't an idiot. He couldn't let this alpha- or anyone- claim him. He'd learned that the hard way. Instead Stiles lay there, writhing and panting and trying to keep his control in check while the guy fingered him open and growled into his ear.

“You feel that?” The alpha growled while working Stiles open with a slick finger.

“I feel two too few fingers in my ass, yeah,” Stiles growled right back, biting at his bottom lip.

Hottness- damn it, he still hadn't heard or been told the guy's name- groaned, and when his lip was free continued, “Think you can do this to me while I'm making you see stars?”

“Gimme the lube when you're done with it,” Stiles taunted right back, then moaned as he slid two more fingers into him in quick succession. He was so turned on that he barely needed it.

“Open your eyes,” Hottness growled, “Look at me.”

“Hurry,” Stiles pleaded, “Fuck, I swear I'm headed for mock heat. Get me _off_ already!”

His mate let out a frantic snarl, pulled his fingers free, and got his pants down in record time for a man wearing a pair of jeans that were sinfully tight. Stiles felt his legs get hiked up around the man's waist and dragged him in with his heels. He wished he could say they slid together like they were meant to be lovers, but it was a small car and they were neither of them small people. It got awkward for a second, they giggled together- which was _awesome_ \- and then Stiles whimpered as that thick cock finally slid into his body.

Hottness had to really angle odd to start fucking Stiles in the right spot, and the fantasy of fucking in the back of a car was quickly dissipating. That wasn't to say it wasn't _good._ It was fucking _amazing._ The alpha's scent was in the seat and his sweat tasted like ambrosia. He grabbed Stiles' hips with bruising grip and lifted him into the right position so he could hit his prostate with nearly every thrust. Stiles gasped and clawed at him and tossed his head as every sense was overwhelmed. Hottness was clearly holding off so he could fuck Stiles longer, his moans nearly pained as he rogered him into oblivion.

“Stiles, open your eyes.”

“More. More! I'm so close!”

“Look at me,” His voice was nearly pleading, “Open your eyes, Stiles.”

“ _Harder!_ ” Stiles pleaded, desperate to distract him.

It worked. The alpha went feral, growled, and bit into his shoulder in lue of his mating gland as he began to pound into him so hard Stiles had to brace his hands on the door above his head. Stiles' screams were genuine and nothing could have held them back. He wasn't faking it to move things along anymore. Hottness was legitimately rocking his world. His dick was the key to the magic kingdom and Stiles was having the ride of his _life._ Stiles was glad his eyes were closed because he had zero control in that moment as his body arched, clenched, and sang for him. He came shouting swear words because he _still_ didn't know his name, clawing his ass, unapologetic and absolutely shaking with pleasure. Stiles' fangs dropped and he felt the sex god's scrape along his shoulder as the man grunted and stilled above him with his knot teasing Stiles' rim. He respectfully didn't force it into him without that crucial agreement first so Stiles pulled in his claws with an act of sheer willpower and reached down to grip it with one hand. With the other he slid his middle finger towards his tight hole. He circled it twice and then slid it in. Stiles had never done this before, but he knew alphas had larger prostates than omegas- part of the huge semen load- so it couldn't be hard. He poked around but didn't feel anything like his own anatomy, but lucky for him he must have been doing something right. The man let out a broken sound and Stiles felt the first pulses of his climax begin to pour into his body.

It felt so damn good being filled with more than just cock that he shivered his way into a second soft climax, making Hotness gasp and arch as he filled him with even _more._ It always felt better without a condom, although Stiles _knew_ it was stupid. He was on birth control of course, no omega with a brain wouldn't be at his age, but the problem was the omega part. It was so damn easy to get pregnant, and while abortions were legal now nobody _wanted_ to get one. Except this felt so right. So satisfying on multiple levels. Stiles wanted more. More and more and more.

“Holy shit, that was amazing,” Stiles breathed out, letting his eyes fall open once he knew that he was safe.

“Yeah,” Hotness panted, sliding free and grimacing at the mess, “Definitely worth the cleaning bill.”

“Sorry about that,” Stiles laughed, trailing his pinky down his nose.

“Like I said. Worth it,” The guy grinned viciously, then straightened up and started the arduous task of getting clothes on and back into the front of the car.

Stiles might have elbowed him a few times, and a few million apologies later he was in the passenger seat again, fiddling with the stereo. The guy was chewing his lip, clearly not wanting him to, but if he wanted Stiles to stop he would have to use his big-boy words. Stiles found a station he liked and relaxed back only to realize they weren't moving. The alpha was just staring at him from the driver's side like the creeper he kept proving himself to be.

“You okay there, big guy?” Stiles grinned.

“Yeah, you?”

“Oh, I'm fantastic!” Stiles laughed, “Getting my brains fucked out tends to put me in a great mood.”

“You were quiet. I didn't think you did quiet.”

Stiles laughed again, “Yeah, it's not my normal, but it's kind of been a rough day for me and now I'm post-coital tired, you know?”

“Something wrong?” He asked with a frown.

“It's uh... it's the day my mom died. I always request it off, but my boss messed up the schedule and put me on. I called out. He told me to switch instead. I did but... Josh didn't show up for my shift to cover it. You found me on my way to dragging myself into work where I was probably just going to burst into tears at random all day.”

Stiles heard his voice crack as he spoke but refused to be ashamed. It never stopped being raw and awful and he hated it so damn much that people kept expecting him to just _get over it._ Stiles didn't believe he ever would and his therapist didn't seem to be super positive about that either.

To Stiles' shock, McFuckme actually reached out and took his hand again, giving it a gentle grip. Stiles gave him a startled look to find him smiling at him softly. Geez, it was a great smile.

“I'm so sorry for your loss, Stiles. It can't be easy. Was she your pack alpha?”

“No, she was a human omega.”

The guy's face faltered a moment, a confused look crossing his face, “What's a human?”

“Oh, it's like... you know how sometimes the form we takes reflects who we are? Well, there was no animal type at all. She couldn't shift, didn't feel the moon, wasn't as connected to pack. I still felt her though, she just couldn't feel my dad and I or her parents. It made it hard for her, I think, although I was so young when she died that she never really shared it with me or anything. I saw her crying once after a neighbor said something mean I didn't understand. Something about blunt fingers. My dad used to say that she didn't have an animal form because she was so sweet that even the most delicate bird couldn't represent her.”

The alpha's hand squeezed his again and then Stiles found out why he didn't talk much when he asked his next question.

“She took her own life?”

“Uh... no,” Stiles pulled his hand free, “No, but I could see why you jumped to that conclusion based on what I said. I didn't mean _emotionally_ delicate. Humans are... physically fragile. She died in an accident.”

“That's really awful,” Derek replied gently, “You really shouldn't be at work.”

“No, I really shouldn't,” Stiles wiped a tear away.

“Pie?”

“Hm?”

“Pie. I can... Look, I know it's backwards, but I'd like to take you out and you're really upset so pie. Pie is... it helps.”

“Pie does help,” Stiles admitted.

“Great, so there's this diner on-”

“Trust me, I know _every_ diner around here, but there's a _slight_ problem with that plan.”

“Come on, tell them you met your mate. They won't make you go in. You can claim bonding time and-”

“Listen, Hotness-” Stiles started, and the guy snorted in amusement at Stiles' nickname, “What's your name?”

“My... Derek. It's Derek. How did you not know...?”

“Oh, you never told me,” Stiles waved it away, “And I'm pretty sure your packmate hates me.”

Derek pointed towards the back seat, face flustered, “You couldn't have asked before we...”

“Oh, I don't need names to have sex. I'm kind of a slut. Which brings me to the reason I _did_ need your name. I like to let people down gently. I'm so sorry, Derek, but I don't date. Not you specifically, just to be clear. I mean, at all.”

“I'm guessing you aren't implying that you want to just go straight to the courthouse and seal the deal,” Derek asked, his expression turning cloudy.

“So much for that pretty smile,” Stiles sighed, “Yeah, I'm not the marrying type.”

Stiles was expecting an argument. He was expecting the guy to call him names like so many others had. He expected at the very least a demand for a reason, which he of course would _not_ give. He didn't expect him to silently pull out of the parking space in the back woods he'd driven them to and start driving him back to the book shop in silence.

They got to the shop and parked a few vehicles down from Stiles' jeep, which was a relief because at this point he'd decided he really wasn't going into work. His boss would just have to deal. Stiles needed a shower or two and clean clothes, not to mention time to get very, very drunk and forget for a while.

“Well, this has been awesome, and at the risk of sounding like a reverse stereotype: you should totally smile more. Thanks for the great shag and listening and stuff. Guess you got that rejection you wanted though. Peace, sourwolf!”

Stiles hopped out, gave the car and the occupant another appreciative look, and headed for his own jeep. Derek's car started forward and then stopped sharply enough to make the wheels squeak right beside Stiles' jeep. Stiles braced himself for the nasty comment. The slut shaming. The threats. The way he'd turn from adorable bunny teeth in Stiles' mind to that guy he did his best not to cry in front of and then resented later on.

“When's your next day off?” Derek grunted.

“Uh... excuse me?”

“When. Is. Your. Next. Day. Off?”

“Uhhhh Thursday. Assuming I don't get fired.”

“I want to knot you at some point. Think about it and tell me if you're game.”

“Oh, I am definitely game,” Stiles practically panted, mouth watering at the thought.

“Good. Pick you up here?”

“No way in hell are we fucking in your tiny ass- but _gorgeous-_ car again. Nuh uh. I'll pick _you_ up here.”

Derek's eyes flashed red and he gave Stiles a sharp nod before driving off. Stiles waited until he turned the corner to do a victory dance in the road, ignored the scandalized stares of a woman who clearly could smell the spunk leaking out of his ass, and drove home to bury his pain in booze and memories of getting laid.

CHAPTER

Derek walked in the door and pointed sharply at Erica, “Make the acatinis. Now. Lots of them.”

Isaac groaned and left to find something else to do once they had sat themselves down to talk. Isaac and Derek were close as well, but they were close in a different way. Isaac had also been fleeing an abusive home and the product of Derek's longing to better himself and get involved in charity. His mother had feared he was collecting pack in the worst way, but Derek couldn't regret it. Isaac had been sneaking out of his house and going to a support group that Derek had been vaguely a part of. He'd been there as a trust fund baby, donating money and donuts to the group. He'd just been dropping off the donuts when Isaac had come in smelling of fresh blood and shaking from head to toe. Derek had taken one look at him and dragged him into his arms and held him while he'd sobbed. No more support group after that. Derek took him back to his house and Isaac didn't even go back home for his things. Derek bought him new everything- including a new phone so his dad didn't know the number- and paid for his therapy. He'd come a long way and while they didn't talk like he and Erica did, they had a physical closeness that Derek didn't crave with Erica despite her being an omega. Isaac still occasionally slipped into his bed at night for a snuggle with his alpha and Derek cherished those moments. Tonight he'd be crawling in with Isaac, and he hoped that his beta wouldn't judge him for it. He didn't think he would.

“Why do you smell like sex, rage, and shame?” Erica folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.

“Probably because I just got used for sex by my mate who then informed me that he _doesn't date_ and isn't the marrying type,” Derek stated, heading for the kitchen to pull out the blender himself. He paused halfway to making the drink and then just started chugging the booze. Erica pulled it from his hand.

“Sit down.”

Derek went to the bar stool and sat down, putting his head in his hands. Erica's hand touched his shoulder gently and gave him a tug. He let her pull him to the couch and slumped down into it. She pulled his head to her bosom and he let himself break down. He felt rather than heard Isaac approach. Then his beta draped himself across his back and hugged him tightly from behind.

“We talked about what to do if he was shit,” Erica soothed, “It will hurt for a bit, but this is actually a good thing. He sucks, Derek.”

“He didn't even know my name till afterwards. What the hell is wrong with me that awful people are the only ones I want?”

“It won't always be like this, Der,” Erica promised, “It really won't. I promise. We'll find you someone decent to love who will actually love you back. You won't even remember his name.”

“It wasn't enough.”

“Yeah, but it wasn't _healthy_ , Derek,” Erica chided gently, “I'm sure sex seems great in the moment, but-”

“No, the rejection. It wasn't enough. He didn't say he didn't want _me._ He said he doesn't date. And he left still smelling interested. I'm still craving him. I'll _never_ get him out of my head!”

CHAPTER

Stiles was the luckiest omega to ever get a wet seat. That big strong alpha who smelled like home and hope and a future kept coming by and screwing him cross eyed. Sure, Isaac stared murder at him every day and Heather wasn't talking to him anymore, but Stiles was used to that. He didn't make friends. He made short term acquaintances who eventually either found out his dirty little secret and stopped talking to him or told him he was annoying and not to talk to _them_ anymore. Stiles brushed it off like he always did, enjoyed his customers, chose the next round of classes, bragged to his dad about passing his finals, and bought three packs of condoms because Derek was _thirsty._

All in all it wasn't awful. It sucked a little because he wanted _so much more_ with Derek, and the guy still occasionally asked him to open his eyes during sex, but Stiles couldn't really complain. After the first time _almost_ fucking in Stiles' jeep turned into an absolute disaster- the jeep broke down and they ended up having to call for a tow- Derek opted to pay for hotels. They met around the corner from his work, hopped in his sexy af car, and got as freaky as they wanted in an actual bed. Derek offered to pay for his jeep's repairs as well, but Stiles laughed it off and said that wasn't his problem. Derek looked constipated, but let it go.

As it turned out, Derek was a lot more intense than just a hard fucking sex god. He had a way of holding Stiles during sex that liquified his brain and had him keening with need. After the first time he'd done that he'd expected Derek to disappear. Who wanted an omega who _keened_ during sex, but still claimed they didn't want to be mated? Keening was a mate-me sound! UGH! However, he'd rescheduled for Stiles' next day off without a single question.

Then one day Derek brought a box of toys. An actual box. Not a suitcase or a briefcase or even a gym bag. Nope. An actual, honest to gods, sea-chest sex toy box. It could not have been more obvious that they were there to fuck dirty. Maybe, _maybe_ , if Derek didn't look like he beat up people for fun, and they weren't checking into a hotel when he had the box, they could have pretended he was a magician or something, but honestly their circumstances voided that lie quite easily.

The box itself was pretty standard, but Stiles had never done kink before so it was extra exciting to him. When they got up to the room Stiles tackled the box with gusto.

“Just so we're clear: we're dipping in that jaccuzi tub in the bathroom before we leave.”

“I figured it was an end of visit thing,” Derek stated, “One of us might be sore afterwards.”

“One of us, huh?” Stiles snickered.

“Yeah, there's some lotion in there that has wolfsbane in it. It's called Pepper Balm for some stupid reason.”

“Uh, you're not putting that on me. I'm a wimp for pain already, it will jus-”

“It's for me.”

“You... oh, wait, am I the Dom in this scenario?”

“I'm a switch,” Derek replied, sitting down on the bed and spreading those thick thighs, “You can be whichever you prefer or try something new. I'm game for anything.”

Stiles had been sorting the toys into piles (impact, soft touch, electric, chemical, bondage) when Derek finished his surprisingly long speech (for him). He paused to turn slightly, a curious look on his face.

“You'd really let me tie you up and whip you?”

“I have receiving electric as a hard stop,” Derek stated, “Along with a few others. We should talk first.”

“Talking is something we do sometimes,” Stiles nodded, “I guess we need to decide what we're both good with? I've never done this stuff before.”

Derek's eyes flashed and Stiles shut his for a moment to stop them from responding. The longer they did this, the more likely it would be that Stiles wouldn't be fast enough. The more his body longed for Derek- and his heart wasn't far behind- the more his eyes flashed back. His eyes would give him away and Derek would head for the hills just like everyone else in his life. Hell, his own father couldn't see them without reaching for a drink, which was why Stiles tended to avoid looking into his eyes.

“You don't have to do that,” Derek sighed, “I looked up humans. I know it's genetic. I don't care that your eyes won't flash back, but you mentioned that your mom was fragile so if we're going to do this stuff you'd either better be the one hitting me or give me _very_ detailed limits for you.”

Stiles blinked. Then blinked again. Holy shit, the guy had _given him an out._ Stiles knew he smelled like a were: a were _fox,_ to be specific, from his dad's side. Maybe Derek's research hadn't shown that it was either were or _not_ , nothing halfway in between. There was no way in hell that Stiles was somehow _half_ human and therefore more fragile than any other omega.

“Uh, well, we could always do light stuff,” Stiles offered.

Derek nodded, “I'd still like to know details. I've bitten you before. I don't want to hurt you.”

Stiles picked up the nearest switch, “But you want me to hurt you?”

“That's different. If this isn't your thing we don't have to. I'm just trying to avoid you getting bored.”

“I can't possibly imagine ever getting bored with you, Sourwolf,” Stiles snickered, “So stop trying so hard.”

Derek nudged the box with his foot, “Anything at all you're interested in?”

“Yeah,” Stiles smiled up at him and crawled forward to kneel between his thighs, “You.”

Derek's eyes flashed and Stiles closed his fast to avoid him seeing it. When he opened them again it was to see Derek frowning at him hard. For a moment Stiles thought he'd seen and the blood drained out of his face so hard he was dizzy and swayed a moment where he knelt. Derek's hand shot out and steadied him.

“You're not human, are you?”

Stiles swallowed hard and plastered on a seductive smile. His hand slid along Derek's thigh to his groin and palmed his crotch. Derek removed his hand.

“I won't care. You have to know I won't care. Whatever it is. A kanima? One eye doesn't flash? You're my _mate_ , Stiles. Even if you don't acknowledge it.”

It hurt. Fuck, it hurt so much, because being his mate was something that Stiles actively wanted. He wanted that happily ever after, and even though they'd fucked a dozen times so far they didn't actually know each other that well. He might be a great match for Stiles, but he might not. Either way their little bliss was about to be interrupted. Stiles knew what happened now. He gave in, because he couldn't avoid or dismiss it anymore. Then he'd leave and Stiles' little bliss bubble would pop. He'd go back to being alone again. Babbling at strangers. Basically pleading for attention because his only packmate was his dad and his dad both loved and hated him. From the bottom of his heart for both emotions. It was complicated. Still, there was nothing for it. He'd outright asked and Stiles was a shit liar.

“Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you,” Stiles sighed, and flashed his eyes.

He had to actively resist the urge to close them because that had been his go-to response for so long. Derek, however, didn't gasp, recoil, or start shouting in outrage. He just frowned a bit as if he didn't get it. Maybe Stiles had blinked? He let them glow instead of just flashing them and Derek shrugged indifferently.

“You're not... freaking out,” Stiles stated.

“Why would I?”

“Do you know what blue eyes _means_?”

“Yes, Stiles. I know what _blue eyes_ means. You think you're the first were I've met with blue eyes?”

“I _killed someone_.”

“Yeah,” Derek nodded, “And? You're acting like that means I'll lose interest in you. You're my _mate.”_

Stiles felt a momentary surge of hope and tried to douse it hard, “You don't think I'm a threat to you?”

Derek laughed. Actually _laughed._ Except it wasn't a sweet, charming laugh, or a gentle, consoling laugh. It was a bitter and hurt laugh. Stiles immediately felt the slow build up of horror that was a precursor to something awful happening, but even though he put his hands up and uttered a soft 'no', Derek still continued.

“You think I didn't expect this? Every single person I've ever been attracted to has tried to hurt me, my things, or my pack. My last girlfriend actively tried to kill me. Once you came clean about only wanting me for sex I just assumed you'd eventually do the same. I've already connected my pack with my mother so when it actually happens- because let's face it I will _not_ be able to stop you- they'll have someone to go to. Didn't tell my mother though...” Derek paused and dropped his eyes and, god help him, Stiles smelled tears, “She lost my sister when we were teens. Aconite overdose. She was... depressed. Isaac says losing me will kill her.”

Stiles reached up and gently brushed the tears from Derek's cheeks with his thumbs, taking in a slow breath and wishing that his emotions weren't so out of control. He was angry and hurt because Derek thought he was going to _murder him_ , just like everyone else who accidentally saw his eyes did. However, Derek had stated his reasons and they were... holy shit, they were scary as fuck. The poor guy apparently had the most _awful_ taste in women- and possibly other genders, he hadn't specified- and there was clearly trauma there. Stiles was so very familiar with trauma and he hated the fact that he'd woken up Derek's. The guy had been nothing but kind, generous (especially in the orgasm department) and understanding of Stiles' reticence to mate. Apparently because he was afraid for his life. _Of Stiles._ Holy shit, he never got used to that. Stiles was just _barely_ starting to put on muscle, but his _eyes_ made him look dangerous to others and it was weird as hell to him.

“Derek, I'm not going to hurt you. Not physically, anyway, I have zero ability to stop myself from saying something hurtful and that's just something you're going to have to learn to love about me. I'm not a cold blooded murderer. I can't... talk about why my eyes are blue. It's too hard, okay? Maybe someday, but just for now, please understand one very important thing?”

“Mm?” He grunted out, meeting Stiles' eyes and giving the omega a bit of hope.

“Even if you couldn't stop me, like, violently, I'm 100% certain that you could just put your hand on my forehead and render me helpless. Like... gradeschool style.”

Derek's mouth cracked a bit of a smile and Stiles grinned, going in for the proverbial kill.

“Like, I'd be flailing harder than I usually do and you'd just be holding me at bay with, like, one finger on my forehead. Three Stooges. Me, you, and Isaac.”

Derek snorted, “My pack is bigger than just Isaac.”

“Who else? Anyone I know?” Stiles wondered. Derek's eyes shuttered and Stiles nodded. He was so fucking hurt it was scary, “Okay, honey, how about we put this box of candy away and just... lie down together. Nice big bed and you know what we've never done in it? Slept!”

“You want to actually sleep together? Emphasis on sleep?”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, “Crazy plan, right? Let's lie down and have a cuddle. Like mates.”

“Like... mates,” Derek muttered, standing up and putting a hand out for Stiles.

“Yeah, like mates,” Stiles replied softly, letting himself lean into Derek's arms, “I'm not scared anymore, but I'm willing to wait until you aren't either, so don't feel pressured. So no more using you for sex, but, like, feel free to use _me_ for it until you're more comfortable with being mates.”

Derek smiled softly and they rested their foreheads together for a moment.

“You're really going to be sappy and sweet and sleep in my arms?” Derek asked.

“Don't get too excited, I'm an absolute bed hog.”

“Of course you are.”

CHAPTER

It felt good. It felt _so_ good that Derek was completely absorbed with snuggling with him, then watching him sleep, then sleeping with his nose in Stiles' hair to take in his saccharine scent that he didn't call or text his pack _at all._ Problem was, they had a history. And since they had a history, they had a protocol. And that protocol involved the police banging on the door at ass-O'clock in the morning.

Stiles woke up with a frankly alarming scream that had Derek flailing to his feet ready to fight and the cops banging harder. Derek knew immediately what happened so he ran forward to the door to stop them from scaring Stiles forward- or triggering Derek to get protective of him.

“I'm fine! Everyone in here is fine!” Derek shouted, “Stiles, tell the cops you're fine!”

“I'm fine and confused!” Stiles shouted, holding the blankets up to his throat like an omega in a Victorian novel.

Derek unlatched the door and opened it, then backed up immediately because there was no way in hell they weren't going to get confused by the situation. It was usually omegas they were rushing to save from alphas, not the other way around. They'd see the biggest guy in the room and if he looked the least bit threatening they'd start shooting. So Derek's knees hit the floor and his arms went up and he had to close his eyes like Stiles had been doing for months because when they swarmed in between himself and his unclaimed mate Derek very nearly went feral. He clenched his jaw and held himself still and listened intently, because if Stiles _was_ in danger he'd risk the bullets.

“On the ground! ON THE GROUND!”

Derek's head was shoved and he went down, laying flat and still listening hard.

“Leave him alone!” Stiles' voice wasn't frantic and fluttery like the novels, he was enraged and unless Derek was _very_ wrong, he was mobile as well.

“BLUE!” A cop shouted.

Derek flew to his feet with a roar, eyes open and flaring, and towards the last sound of Stiles' voice as the bullets rang out. He tackled Stiles to the ground at the same time his mate was racing towards a cop to defend _Derek._ Two bullets hit Derek's thigh, but when he landed he immediately pushed up to look at Stiles' head and torso.

“Baby, no, no, no,” Derek breathed, one hand cupping his cheek.

“You're the one who got shot, you dumbass,” Stiles hissed, “Someone call an ambulance!”

A drop of black hit Stiles' cheek and he whimpered, eyes wide and afraid.

“Shit,” Derek whispered, “That wolfsbane is strong.”

A cop was using something as a tourniquet on Derek's leg, trying to stop the poison from reaching his heart and killing him faster. It hurt. It hurt _so much_.

“He's my mate,” Derek choked out, “You can't hurt my _mate._ Neither of us are dangerous.”

“Lie down,” Stiles pulled at, wrapping his arms around his body tightly, “Ambulance! Stat! Come on, people! Get on it! Also, my dad's the fucking Sheriff, so you better let him know I'm alive when you mention my name on that fucking radio or he'll have a heart attack!”

“Oh great, he's going to shoot me, too,” Derek growled.

When the ambulance arrived they carefully moved Derek off of Stiles and to his horror he was held immobile as the officers swarmed in and arrested Stiles, slamming the cuffs on those thin wrists and shoving his face into the ground hard enough to draw a hiss of pain from his pretty lips.

“Leave him alone!”

“He's got blue eyes,” One of the officers snapped.

“He's the Sheriff's kid!” Derek argued.

“You guys are about a mile out of his jurisdiction,” The guy told him, his tone a bit apologetic, “And he wouldn't be the first cop to hide the fact his kid had murdered someone.”

“He did report it!” Stiles shouted, “I was acquitted!”

“Blue eyes don't acquit,” The cop kneeling on his back growled, then dragged him up by his arms, pulling his shoulders back and making him scream in pain.

Derek let out a roar of rage and tried to get to him again, bullets be damned, but there were cops _and_ techs holding him down and he was helpless as they dragged a whimpering Stiles out of their room. Derek was taken to the local hospital where his pack showed up in terror to clutch at him while he could barely focus on their words. Asking them to go protect Stiles wasn't working so he growled out an order that they go get him. _Immediately_. They already had the bullets out and he was angrily waiting for the cure to work so he could be discharged. Isaac was scurrying towards the police station where Stiles was hopefully safe, or so help him Derek would sue the city until they couldn't afford to charge their cell phones let alone power their buildings.

Erica meanwhile wasn't so much comforting him as twisting his arm in an attempt to give him a friction burn that would outlast his healing ability. She was angry enough that it was starting to stick.

“He _broke you_ , Derek. We agreed you wouldn't let that happen again. You were crying after every shag. I was starting to think he was dosing you with hormones! I just asked your doctor to scan for a womb!”

“That's sexist.”

“So help me, if you think for one second that I'm going to let him hurt you again you've got another thing coming!”

“Threaten him and I'll tear up our contract and throw you out on the streets,” Derek growled, making Erica recoil in shock, “I'm not joking, Erica. I'm bordering on feral here. He's my _mate_ , and he was _finally_ warming up to me. We didn't even screw. We _cuddled_ and he opened up to me. I love you like a daughter, Erica, but my instincts are so insane they had to _chain me to this bed._ So stop. Just stop. I don't want to do something I'll regret with you. I need you but I'm not in control right now.”

“Okay,” Erica stepped forward slowly, hands out and head tilted to show submission, “Okay, alpha.”

Derek drastically relaxed at the submission and with his visible calm Erica swarmed forward and began to soothe him with everything she was worth. She draped herself across him and nuzzled his face and postured and whispered soothing nothings that occasionally were punctured by her calling him a big alpha baby. By the time the doctors came back in Derek had calmed so much they took the cuffs off.

Big mistake.

CHAPTER

Stiles felt numb and cold all over. He was sitting in the interrogation room staring at the badge of the cop directly in front of him. He wasn't memorizing the badge number, he'd done that already for every single person he'd come in contact with. His dad might be a sheriff, but he knew full well that the cops weren't your friends when you were the one in trouble. He still had flashbacks of the time they'd brought a social worker in to talk to him about his mother's death. The officers had stood over him for an hour before she'd arrived, staring him down and fingering their guns. He'd eventually just... shut his eyes and kept them clutched that way.

It had taken two days for a therapist to get him to open them up again, and by then his dad had signed the paperwork and let the state take him. He'd spent two years in inpatient. His father had visited, but only a few times a month. He said he was busy. When Stiles came home he found out what he was busy with. Being drunk took up a lot of his time.

When his dad was sober he was supportive and told him over and over again that he wasn't a murderer, that his eyes were still beautiful, that he'd find someone and live happily ever after. That he deserved love and joy and a career and all the things he'd taken from another innocent human being. When he was drunk he focused a lot more on the second half of the previous sentence. There was screaming and pointing, anger and sorrow, tears and broken bottles. Stiles had never been hit by him; he was sure he'd never go that far. However, as his own father well knew you didn't have to leave a mark on someone to abuse them. The problem was that Stiles had decided years ago that he deserved it, so when it happened he just took it and no amount of therapy had changed that fate. He knew he should move out of his dad's house. He should go stay in housing at school at the very least. If he did either of those things he'd probably have a chance to recover his self esteem. The problem was that his father was hurting himself more than he was hurting Stiles. He had a bad heart and he was drinking, smoking, and eating anything deep fried he could get his hands on. Stiles desperately needed his last remaining family member to stay alive for as long as possible, so he stayed and tried his best to keep the drinking down, force patches and gum on him, and fill the house with vegetables and fruit.

His father's worst benders always came after he either saw Stiles' eyes or someone brought them up in conversation. Having an entire police department a county over discussing his kid's eyes? It was going to _kill him._ He might not even show up with the proof that Stiles was technically innocent.

“So, we can see that there's a sealed file from when you were a minor. That when your eyes changed?” One office asked, tone gentle despite the accusation.

“Just give us a name, kiddo. If we know who it was we can look up a news story or something and get some perspective here,” The other insisted, tone irritated.

Stiles wasn't budging. He was an adult now and he wouldn't put it past them to try him again, claiming new information or some other way around Double Jeopardy. He really should ask for a lawyer but he felt so damn _numb_. His father was going to be destroyed for _days,_ reliving the horrors from years ago, and it was all Stiles' fault. Again.

CHAPTER

Isaac hated Stiles. He hated what he'd done to Derek and he hated his stupid fake smile that he wore at work all the damn time. He especially hated that Derek was so gone on him he'd ordered him off to rescue the bastard in his name, despite the fact that all Isaac wanted was to be there for his alpha. Derek was such a loving man and this asshat was _using him._ So when Isaac walked into the police station all he did was tell the secretary that he was there on behalf of Stiles' mate and then flopped down on a bench and folded his arms, pretending he didn't hear the follow up question that would have allowed Stiles access to the Hale's lawyer. The woman shrugged and turned back to her work.

Isaac gave the room a delicate sniff and located Stiles behind a door in the distance. He hoped the asshole was getting reamed by the police. _Blue eyes._ He was a fucking murderer, just like the last one, and Derek was going to support him anyway. Maybe Isaac could find a way to kill him instead? Would his eyes turn blue if the guy _wasn't_ aninnocent?

Then a man walked in stinking of booze and looking dangerous. Isaac sank down in the bench, fear curling through his gut. He knew what that look meant, and sure enough the man raised his hand and began to yell. He had a file in it rather than a beer bottle, but it was the same level of threat and Isaac fought the urge to draw attention to himself by throwing himself under the bench.

“So which of you dumbasses interrupted my afternoon whiskey- causing me to have to figure out how to work an _Ubey_ \- in order to bring you a _eleven year old case file?!_ Are you all so _fucking_ incompetent that you couldn't look at his last name, google it, and find a big ole newspaper article with the heading _Deputy Stilinski's Human Wife Killed in Tragic Accident?”_

“Sir-” The lady at the desk made the mistake of saying.

“It's _Sheriff_ now, just in case you can't read, either!” He snarled at her, slamming the file down and gesturing to his unbuttoned shirt front, “Now where's the little shit who slit my wife's throat?”

“Sheriff, you're going to want to take a seat before I have the awkward task of escorting you to the drunk tank.”

“Oh, trust me,” The man barked out a laugh, “I'm not even remotely drunk yet. Just wait until I have to take him home and listen to him cry for an hour like a fucking baby over how he _didn't mean to kill his mommy.”_

Isaac felt a bit sick at the vicious mockery in his voice. Especially when two people escorted Stiles, still handcuffed and therefore helpless, out of the room he'd been in to face his drunk and clearly still grieving father.

“Oh look! There he is!” The Sheriff boomed, “The man of the hour! The kid who was too young to be thrown out when I found him _sobbing_ in a pool of blood belonging to the only _person_ who I've ever loved! Sadly, even today he's still _clinging to my back_ like its his mother's bloodsoaked tits! Guess what, guys? The judged ruled he was _innocent._ An accident! So I'm sorry to say you _have_ to let him go, and I have to take his _broken_ little heart back because he's so fucking pathetic that he can't take a god damn _hint_ and move out of the home he destroyed! Well? What are you shits waiting for?! Uncuff the little turd so I can spend the rest of my miserable existence wiping his nose for him, because _god_ knows that no one will ever take his annoying, blue-eyed off my fucking hands!”

Isaac knocked a chair over while racing to get to Stiles before his father's staggering steps. Then he stood there, heart pounding and fear pulsing through his veins, because unless he was _very_ wrong that would have made Stiles nine or ten years old when he accidentally killed his mother. Isaac wasn't stupid. He saw the resignation and sorrow on Stiles' face and knew that he would go home with this man, who would at the very least continue to destroy him verbally if not physically. Isaac knew how shit like this ended. Stiles would end up dead and Derek would never recover if he didn't act _now._

“A-actually I'm here on behalf of his alpha,” Isaac sputtered. Stiles didn't budge or speak so Isaac plowed ahead, “He wants Stiles to come meet him at the hospital. He'll heal faster with his mate there.”

The man's face went blank and he blearily blinked at Isaac a moment before it scrunched up in confusion, “Who're you?”

“Isaac his... his alpha's beta. The second of the pack.”

The pack of a measley 3 people, who he was second of by default rather than choice, but he puffed himself up like he was a force to be reckoned with and hoped the drunk didn't take a swing at him. Isaac was more likely to squeal and run than fight back.

“Hey,” Stiles' voice was soft behind him, “It's fine. You don't have to do this. Derek's not going to want me after he heals the gross details anyway. Just-”

“Will you shut up and let me save you?” Isaac snapped over his shoulder at the guy.

“Oh, that's rich,” Stiles' father slurred, “Sure. Go ahead. _Save him_ from me. He's a huge baby, he'll just come crawling back anyway. They always do. You can beat them black and blue, but they come back because they have no back bones.”

“That what you did to your wife?” Isaac asked sharply, simmering anger making him speak without thinking.

“DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT MY MATE!” The man shouted, and lifted a balled up fist while lurching towards Isaac.

Three things happened in very quick succession. Isaac yelped like a kicked puppy. Stiles kicked the back of Isaac's legs out from behind, sending him crumpling towards the ground and avoiding him taking that punch. An officer to the right tasered the man before he could even begin to swing his arm towards Isaac.

Isaac awkwardly stood up while the room erupted into action around him, people studying the file the sheriff had brought, muttering to each other in groups, and amidst the chaos Stiles was uncuffed and his father slammed into a pair of silver bracelets instead. He was hauled off and Isaac was told he wasn't pressing charges. Not asked. _Told._

“Yeah, of course not,” Stiles grabbed Isaac's arm and steered him towards the door at a surprisingly fast clip for a man who looked like he'd had his soul crushed a moment ago, “Have a nice day, everyone! Bye-ee!”

Then they were outside in the parking lot and Isaac was staring around himself in shock.

“What just happened?”

“You just got my dad shocked, you asshole!” Stiles snapped, “He's got a bad heart!”

Then while Isaac stood there sputtering, Stiles turned sharply on his heel and went _back inside the police station!_ Isaac stood there for a moment, feeling like an idiot and wishing he knew what to do next. His sudden bravado was gone. He didn't want to go back in there and try to convince a man determined to stay with an abusive dad to leave with him for an alpha he'd expressed reluctance to mate with. He also didn't want to leave the guy there. He knew full well how hard it was to leave, how much it felt like betrayal and all the arguments the sheriff would make to get him to stay. He was his son. He brought him into the world. He owed him his life. He owed him for what happened to his mom. It was _Stiles'_ fault that the guy had to drink to cope with her horrific death. It was _Stiles'_ fault that the topic kept coming up, making him drink more and more. It was _Stiles'_ fault that he got mean when he drank. Who could blame him?

To make things worse, Isaac knew the cops would stick the guy in the drunk tank, maybe even _with_ Stiles, and when he sobered up they'd send them both home without a word. They'd never go after one of their own. If anything it was Stiles who would take the blame in that area as well. He'd be told, firmly and with bitter tones, that he shouldn't make his dad relive his mate's loss. That they didn't want to see him back there again, as if Stiles had asked to be arrested!

Isaac's rage boiled and simmered, and then his phone went off. It made him jump, and also sent a course of relief through him. In all that had gone on, he'd forgotten all about it and he was surprised and relieved to find it hadn't fallen out of his breast pocket when he'd toppled over. He was so glad his anxiety over his task had caused him to snatch up his alpha's leather jacket, because Isaac's clothes didn't have that small breast pocket that was too small for much besides a cigarette pack... or a cell phone, which could be turned to record and placed in such a way out of the tiny pocket that it caught anything Isaac faced.

Isaac hadn't had to use this trick since he'd run away from home and into Derek's pack, and had purposely not bought clothes with front pockets for this exact reason. His father had once caught him recording the abuse and smashed his phone, cutting off his means of calling for help. He'd never done anything with all the videos he'd collected before hand, and as far as Isaac was aware they were still floating in the cloud somewhere. Proof of his father's abuse, and now proof of Stiles' father's abuse. It might never get Stiles to leave, but the man was in an elected position which he really, really shouldn't be holding. At the very least it would shine the spotlight on the bullshit in the local departments.

Hell, Stiles' story was disgustingly similar to so many others, and Isaac was ashamed of how he'd fallen into the prejudiced trap of assuming anyone with blue eyes was definitely an evil murderer. The idea that eyes turned blue only when an _innocent_ life was taken was very subjective. Some people's eyes turned blue if they killed in self defense, while there were serial killers whose eyes stayed the same as their original status without any indication of ever changing. For a long time there was an assumption that it was based on how guilty the person felt, that the hormones released due to those emotions triggered the change, but there were people out there who genuinely felt awful they'd taken a life but had regular eye flare color and others who couldn't give a fuck who had blue eyes. Peter Hale came to mind there. Isaac was terrified of the guy. He had blue eyes but kept it a secret for the most part because he'd be shot on sight if a cop or some gun-toting dumbass saw them and decided they were in danger. He was also most definitely a dangerous guy, and Derek tended to shove his packmates behind himself whenever he was around. Peter thought it was hilarious. Isaac had no idea who he'd killed, but he definitely didn't feel any sort of way about it.

Isaac didn't really think about the consequences, because if he did he'd never have the nerve. He just found a facebook group for a news station and sent them the video. Then he sent it to a couple others in quick succession. He hoped he'd done the right thing. Hell, he hadn't even watched the video. Maybe it was just a long, angled clip of the floor of the police station and some desks with muffled voices in the background. Where there names in there? Isaac began to panic. There might have been names in there. He couldn't remember if anyone had said 'Hale' or 'Stilinski' while he was in the room. He hadn't used his own last name, but he'd said his first, and Stiles was a very, very unique name. Or was it a nickname? Isaac wasn't even sure. It was on the guy's name badge and schedule at work and Derek had never called him anything else when sighing about him at home.

Isaac was starting to panic, and two of the news stations had sent him a message. He hit the settings for his facebook and deactivated it, hoping that would stop them from viewing his messages. Did that work? He had no idea. He rarely even _used_ facebook!

Swearing under his breath, Isaac started a quick trot back to Derek's car, but then remembered his alpha had told him not to come back without Stiles. So Isaac sat in the car, banging his forehead against the steering wheel and trying not to rage cry. He hated rage crying. It made him look weak, and despite being terrified for the last hour he _wasn't weak._ He had a lot of trauma. That didn't make him weak. Derek always said he was one of the strongest men he'd ever met.

Isaac eventually fell asleep sitting in the car trying to make up his mind and was woken up when someone slammed a hand on the window. Isaac jumped and quickly opened the door to clambour out. It was late. He had no idea what time, but well past midnight, and it was cold as hell. Derek's breath was visible on the wind and his eyes were burning red.

“What did you _do?”_ He snarled.

CHAPTER

“I know,” Stiles muttered for the tenth time.

They had had this conversation about a hundred times and Stiles never felt anything but burning, neasueating, horrifying guilt and self-hatred. His dad was at the crying phase now, lying down on the metal bench in the drunk tank and just wailing about his lost mate. Her eyes. Her hair. Her scent. The way she'd smiled and laughed and been such a beautiful dancer. Her stories. The way she'd tilt her hip to one side when she wanted him to mate her (Ugh, Stiles did _not_ need to hear that, but his dad didn't care who he was talking to when he was in this condition.) Then he'd get to the death part and Stiles would just nod and agree, because it _was_ his fault. He'd killed his mother. There was just no getting around that, even if a judge had taken pity on him when he was nine.

“She was just... lying there, and Stiles was covered in her blood and crying. He put his arms up like he wanted me to pick him up. As if I could ever touch him when he was like that! As if I'd ever hug him again!”

“You hug me still,” Stiles muttered miserably.

“I have to,” The guy choked out, “I have to pretend it's fine. I have to be this loving and supportive dad, because everyone keeps reminding me _it wasn't his fault._ They don't _know what it's like._ To have to see him, day after day, month after month, year after year. Knowing what he _did to her._ ”

“I didn't mean to,” Stiles whispered, more numb than sad at this point. He was past the point of tears, had been for the last hour, and was just automatically responding, “We were playing. I'd never brought out my claws before. I didn't know I even _could_ hurt her. We were playing Predator and Prey. I didn't mean to, dad.”

There was no saving her. His swipe that day, playful as they chased each other around the living room on a day that was too cold and rainy for a youngster to take his energy outside, had severed her carotid artery. She'd bled out in seconds while he's screamed for help, fumbling the phone to call 911. The ambulance and another set of officers had gotten there before his dad, but Stiles had been hysterical and they hadn't calmed him down before his father had come in. He'd heard it on the radio even though the locals had tried to keep it quiet when they'd realized it was their deputy's house they were headed towards. He'd rushed there with sirens on to see the worst thing a man could ever lay eyes on. Stiles screaming over his mother's body, terrified and devastated, blood on his claws and clothes, and eyes glowing blue.

He'd never been the same after that day. The police did their best to keep it quiet and the news paper had only printed that his mother had died because she was a human and had an accident at home. First it had been vague, but after a very brief trial while Stiles was in a psychiatric hospital they had printed the follow up that his father had mentioned to the station. Claudia Stilinski had had an accident and, being human, hadn't survived it. People had been stunned. It wasn't easy to kill a werewolf and many didn't know what a human even was. They were so rare as to be considered extinct! Stiles was just a kid, and one who was guilt-ridden even after a solid year in a psych ward getting constant treatment, and the adults and kids around him were _curious._ For years he couldn't escape the questions. People wanted to know what happened but Stiles had been schooled not to answer. Just that he found her like that. No idea. Must have slipped while cutting food up. Not a clue.

The hype had died down eventually and he'd let down his guard about being secretive. That was when Scott had asked again. He'd been so close to his best friend that both their parents, and honestly Stiles as well, had assumed that they would be mates when they presented. Stiles thought he could trust Scott. His friend had a very solid idea of what right and wrong was and it never wavered. If Scott told him it wasn't his fault, then even Stiles' father's drunken rages wouldn't matter anymore. His dad was biased because he was hurt. The judge had to follow the law and deem Stiles innocent based on his youth, rather than actual facts. Scott was a neutral party, one who was in Stiles' eyes not bound by the law and unlikely to change his beliefs based on childhood affection. Stiles had him on a pedestal and he knew it, so when Scott listened to Stiles' tearful story and his eyes widened in horror at the sight of Stiles' blue eyes he had been devastated. Scott had just gotten up off the floor of his bedroom, opened up his bedroom door, and gestured for Stiles to leave. He'd looked so _disappointed_.They'd never spoken again. Scott had become popular throughout highschool, was a jock now, and Stiles had been his weird friend who got invited to things because Scott wouldn't let him be excluded. Now that he wasn't Scott's tag-along best friend, Stiles was completely and utterly alone. Even the bullies didn't bother with him. He was a non-entity. He was nothing. No one.

Well, he was something, and that something was what he wished he wasn't.

He was a Blue.

CHAPTER

“I wasn't thinking!” Isaac sputtered, standing in front of Derek and literally _shaking,_ “They weren't going to do _anything_ because, you know, _fraternity_ , and Stiles was so resigned and he was going to go back! Just like I did for _years!_ Just accept that it was his fault, when it _wasn't!_ I just thought, you know, if someone else knew that something could be done about it!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Derek snapped, “Where's Stiles? Why didn't you pick him up?”

Isaac blinked a few times, “You don't... you didn't see the video?”

“What video?!”

“Oh, um... Stiles is inside. He's fine. No charges. His dad showed up with proof he was innocent, his eyes are blue for... it's complicated. He wouldn't leave with me. Basically tossed me out in the parking lot.”

Derek growled in frustration and headed or the doors, muttering about leaving a beta to do an alpha's job. Isaac trotted after him at a fast clip.

“Uh, there's something you need to know!” Isaac hurried, “Look, he's probably sober by now, but Stiles' dad is like mine! He's abusing him!”

Derek stopped, turning to give Isaac a confused look. Isaac's eyes were darting around. Triggered. Flashing back to his childhood. Derek wanted nothing more than to get inside and get his mate out, but his beta _needed_ him in the here and now and ignoring it would only make it escalate, so he reached out to card his fingers through his curly hair and draw him into a gentle hug.

“Stiles raves about his dad. They're best friends. They do everything together. They went to a ball game last week. His dad buys him things and helps him pay for college. He has a cell phone and a job and freedom... Isaac, he's nothing like your dad. I promise. His father was probably just mad because Stiles nearly got shot and lost his temper. We've talked before about how people yell for a lot of reasons, it's not always abuse. Listen, wait out here with Erica and I'll get him. I don't want you in there if it's got you this upset. I'm sorry I sent you.”

Derek pressed a fond kiss to his forehead and pushed him towards Erica who was looking sympathetic before hurrying into the police station. He was met with a calm room full of busy workers and brushed away Isaac's fears. He already saw Stiles and his dad talking to someone off in the corner of the room. They were just leaving the partition between the main area and the more private back area. No one was in cuffs, and they were both smiling. He could smell the booze, tears, and vomit on the man dressed as a sheriff who Stiles so closely resembled, but if the death that Stiles was associated with was someone close to him that was understandable. This might have been a hard night for them both, and Derek put on his most understanding face as they chatted.

“-can't thank you enough for looking after my boy, Kathy. He can be a handful, but he's a good kid.” The Sheriff, rubbed the back of Stiles' head, scent marking him and giving him an affectionate glance.

Stiles looked at his father as if he hung the moon, eyes dancing happily and grin broad and loving. There wasn't abuse here. Isaac was projecting his trauma. It hadn't happened before this, and he'd have thought his packmate was more over things than he obviously was, but that's how trauma worked. Sometimes you backslid. He'd been warned by Isaac's therapist to expect it, but honestly it had been so long he'd just brushed it off as Isaac being stronger than most other victims. The guy was a brick house normally. Well, he was allowed to struggle. Derek would be extra supportive and comforting. Maybe insist Isaac bunked with him for a bit. His sweet beta needed some coddling.

“Stiles!” Derek called when it looked like they'd be launching into a whole other discussion. He didn't want to be there all day!

Stiles looked over and a dozen emotions flashed across his face. Fear, hope, anxiety, sorrow, and so much that Derek couldn't unpack at that point. Derek let his face show his happy relief at seeing Stiles okay and headed towards them.

“You're okay,” Stiles breathed out, eyes roaming over Derek's body.

“I'm fine,” He told him, although he was still healing in all honestly, “Are you? I wanted to get here sooner, but I was held up at the hospital.”

“Oh, I'm fine. Just surprised to see you here, is all,” Stiles replied, face reflecting guilt and sorrow. He actually ducked his head. Derek had never seen Stiles do that before. He was usually so confident that he came off as a beta rather than an omega. Stiles never bared his neck or took on a submissive stance, and that was what made Derek pause more than anything Isaac had said.

“I told you. This changes nothing,” Derek stated, putting both hands on his upper arms and giving them a gentle squeeze, “You're my mate. Plain and simple.”

Part of him saying that, if he really admitted it to himself, was just to say it in front of Stiles' father. He was staking a verbal claim, and he knew it was juvenile to want to tug the omega away from his father. It was instinctive, and Derek wasn't a cave man. He shouldn't feel this desperate urge to drag Stiles away from his familial pack and _make_ him a part of his own. That was why claiming wasn't as common anymore, especially if the two packs couldn't merge. It was just so cruel and sexist to force an omega to lose their bonds to their familial pack just to make their scent less appealing! And the fact the omega would crave the alpha for the rest of his life without a harsh chemical removal was absolutely offensive. No one deserved to be severed from family and forced to yearn for someone who might grow tired of them someday, or vice versa. Hell, the father was probably disgusted rather than impressed to hear Derek say that. It took everything he had not to wince and pull away after spitting those words out.

“There, see!” The sheriff clapped his son on his shoulders, “You kept going on about what a great guy he was, and there's your proof! He's not going to _hate you_ now. I told you, Scott was immature. A teenager. This is a grown man, Stiles. He's not going to act like this is a soap opera. Give the guy a chance.”

There was something there. Something in the way Stiles ducked his head and glanced sideways at his dad. Something in his dad's tone that made it sound like the cheerful and encouraging conversation... wasn't at all that. Like Stiles should be grateful _anyone_ wanted him, when really anyone should be grateful that Stiles looked at them twice. Derek shook it off, because it was gone in an instant and Stiles was smiling at Derek as if the sun shown out of his ass. With _love in his eyes._ Derek nearly choked at the sight. He actually felt his eyes get a bit hot and blinked a few times because he was _not_ going to cry in relief in front of Stiles, his dad, and a room full of trigger-happy cops who might assume the omega with blue eyes were abusing _Derek._ Never mind that it was bordering on true with how he kept mind-fucking him.

“You're right, dad. He's a helluva guy.”

“Come on, how about this helluva guy takes us out for burgers so I can get to know him. Seriously, he thinks he's so sneaky. As if I didn't know you two were meeting up at motels. You've got a lot of nerve not introducing yourself before now!” The man laughed, putting a hand on both their shoulders and steering them towards the door.

“Dad, you are _not_ eating burgers! We're heading to the hospital to check your heart after that shock you got a few hours ago!”

“Stiles, if I can't survive every curve ball you throw me than I don't deserve that burger, but as it happens I _do_ deserve it, and you're going to be a good boy and let me have this one.”

“But-” Stiles stammered.

“No buts,” His voice got a bit firmer and Derek felt his grip tighten on his shoulder, which meant it had on Stiles' as well, “I had a shit night and I'm having a burger.”

“At least wash up first,” Stiles sighed.

“Now that's a good suggestion,” He decided, “Son, we'll meet you at Suzy's. You know where it is?”

“Sure, of course,” Derek nodded.

They got to the parking lot and Derek saw Isaac shrink down and duck behind Erica, who was... wolfed out?! She had her claws drawn and was breathing hard and standing in _obvious_ defense of Isaac. His omega packmate had always been a cut throat one. Isaac always called himself Derek's second, but Erica was his _true_ second, and the fact she was an omega instead of a beta didn't make him blink. Everyone underestimated her, but she would slice them a new smile if she had to. She wasn't one to be fucked with, but while Isaac had always had better control she had never been _out of_ control. Something was wrong and the hairs on the back of Derek's neck raised. He saw the world go red, responding to his omega packmate's distress. With it came the sharp focus of predator instinct. Smells became sharper, his vision more pronounced and less distracted by color, his skin electrified and muscles tense. The first thing he picked up was the scent hidden behind his mate's current mood.

Fear. Sorrow. Misery. So absolute that if he'd caught it first off the bat he'd have frog-marched him to the nearest hospital and had him committed. Derek was quite suddenly staring down at his mate with wide eyes, terrified of losing him for a completely different reason. Stiles was arguing with his father about an uber, and his dad was looking amused but firm. They'd take an uber. Derek wasn't driving them. Except Derek's claws were out and he needed to snatch Stiles away from his father like a physical ache.

“Derek!” Erica's voice shot out, piercing the sudden cloud of instinct-driven focus, “Isaac's right!”

That was all it took. Stiles' face suddenly shuttered, then turned hostile in an instant. It was a cold, calculating look as if he were ready to destroy the world around him if he had to. He looked like a man capable of _earning_ those blue eyes, but Derek didn't care because it was his father's look that was truly awful. He looked confused and blinked his eyes towards where Isaac and Erica stood before reaching for his gun.

There were three wolfed out people in the parking lot, one victim of abuse prepared to protect his abuser, and a cop with a fucking gun.

Someone was going to die here, and Derek was going to make damned sure it wasn't Stiles.

CHAPTER

“Now then,” John stated, voice calm and steady, “Let's all put those away, shall we?”

Stiles stepped in front of his father, who slowly reached his arm around Stiles' front, grabbed his belt, and started to s l o w l y drag him back behind himself. It was all so careful. A man trying to protect his son from three hostile individuals who he knew would react with predatory instinct-driven speed if they moved too sharply. Predator and Prey, Like the game he'd played as a child. Don't look like prey. Move slowly and you won't get tagged. Move fast and the 'predator' in the room would tackle you. It was considered a game, but it was also a life lesson, because those dragged out motions were keeping Derek from rushing forward and slashing the man up.

“Let him go,” Derek spoke around a mouthful of teeth.

“Derek, go home,” Stiles' voice was a firm command.

“Not happening.”

“Isaac doesn't know what he saw,” Stiles stated, “It's not what it looks like, and he was pretty upset last night.”

“Listen, you gaslighting little shit, he _got it on film_ so that's not gonna fly!” The omega woman guarding Isaac snarled. She looked scarier than Derek and Stiles was keeping an eye on her more than his alpha mate. Derek would kill for him, no doubt, but he also instinctively didn't want to kill his mate's packmate. That blonde bombshell was clearly capable of cold blooded murder, and omega or no she was the bigger threat here.

“Why don't we all take a big ole bucket of calm and meet back up at the diner. Suzy's right? Your packmates going ot join us?” Stiles' voice was forced calm now. Placating. Get them to agree to meet in nuetral territory with witnesses. All good in the hood.

“No,” Derek snapped, “You're never going to be alone with him again.”

“He's my _dad_ , so maybe watch your tone,” Stiles stated sharply, not growling despite wanting to.

“Isaac says he's abusing you. I should have _listened to him_ , but I thought you'd have told me. Obviously I was wrong. You're coming with me. Now.”

“No. I'm not. And now the offer of a late diner dinner with both packs is rescinded,” Stiles stated firmly.

“Stiles, move slowly towards the station,” John stated softly in gentle tones.

“Stiles, you don't have to-” Derek started, but Stiles cut him off.

“I reject you,” Stiles stated, voice soft but firm and absolutely unwavering.

He didn't look at Derek. He didn't want to see the punched in the gut look that would be on his face, but he couldn't stop the scent from hitting him lick a bat to the back of his head. Even breathing only through his mouth he still had to take it in. The stench of defeat, sorrow, agonizing pain, and gut wrenching hurt.

“No. No, you... no, you said you wouldn't reject me. You said I had to.”

“Something I probably should have told you a while ago. I'm a _really_ good liar. Come on, dad,” Stiles insisted, tugging at his arm gently and getting it to move a bit away from his gun, “Let's just walk back inside the station and call an Uber from there.”

“Yeah, let's do that,” The man replied, starting to back away so he wasn't perceived as running.

He needn't have bothered. The predator was gone in the face of Stiles' rejection. Stiles didn't meet his eyes or even look at his face, but a glance in his direction showed him standing there with slumped shoulders and arms hanging useless and declawed at his sides. Erica hadn't calmed, so Stiles kept his focus on her.

Her face was twisted into a vicious, murderous grimace, her claws flexing as if seeking flesh, and when Stiles met her glowing eyes she lifted her thumb and dragged it slowly across the air in front of her throat. She was going to come for Stiles for hurting her alpha, and he could only give her a nod of respect. He wasn't exactly going to forgive himself, either.

CHAPTER

Derek felt the air leave his lungs in a sharp whoosh and for a moment didn't want to breathe back in again. Not until it started to burn. If he breathed in Stiles' scent would have changed, would have lost that sharp edge of want and need that indicated he was his mate. He'd just smell like any other omega. Sexually appealing, but not someone he _had_ to have. Not someone he'd held in his arms like he was precious, someone he'd started to fall in love with, someone whose eyes he'd pictured beneath the Hale eyebrows in a tiny cherub face.

When he did breathe in he was so distracted by his own agonizing hurt that he didn't even register the change in scent at first. He just started to protest desperately. Stiles dismissed him, eyes on Erica as the real threat because he was smarter than most people.

“No. No, you... no, you said you wouldn't reject me. You said I had to.”

“Something I probably should have told you a while ago. I'm a _really_ good liar. Come on, dad,” Stiles insisted, tugging at his arm gently and getting it to move a bit away from his gun, “Let's just walk back inside the station and call an Uber from there.”

“Yeah, let's do that,” The man replied, starting to back away so he wasn't perceived as running.

Derek's next breath caught Stiles' scent. It was so full of sorrow and regret it burned, but it wasn't the smell of _mate_ anymore. It wasn't the smell of someone who was meant to be _his._ It was as if someone had taken a precious childhood memory and tainted it with an awful truth. Stiles wasn't his anymore. He never would be. The children Derek had pictured time and again even after Stiles had left him feeling cold and dejected in a hotel room would never come to be. Derek couldn't help but mourn them. For all his flaws he'd always wanted a big family, and now he'd never have that. He couldn't imagine starting over with someone else, not after having watched Stiles sleep beside him with his face relaxed in slumber. They had finally taken a few steps forward and now they were over and done.

Stiles shut the police station door behind him and Derek dropped to his knees. Erica and Isaac rushed forward and pulled him up to his feet and towards the car. He vaguely heard them worrying that he'd get shot again if they stayed, but didn't respond as they packed him into the back seat of the car and hurried away as fast as the speed limit would allow.

“He just... that didn't happen,” Derek insisted.

Erica swore from the front seat, “Just don't do anything crazy till we get home, okay?”

“No. No, that didn't happen,” Derek insisted.

“Honey, it's going to be okay. He was an ass anyway. You-”

“Erica, we have to go back for him,” Isaac whispered, “Maybe at night?”

“Seriously?!” Erica argued, “You were against this from the start!”

“That was when I thought his fake smile was hiding a douchebag. Now I know it was hiding _pain.”_

“You're a pain! You're both a pain! IN MY ASS!” Erica snarled.

“Erica, you saw that video,” Isaac whispered again, glancing back towards Derek as if he couldn't _hear him._

“Show me,” Derek stated, holding out a hand. Isaac hesitated and Derek grabbed his jacket collar, “ _Show me.”_

Isaac handed over his phone with a look of misery on his face. Derek watched the video twice in absolute silence, fuming in rage.

“I'm going to get a lawyer,” Derek growled, “And sue someone.”

“What will that do?” Erica wondered.

“I don't know. I don't even know who I'm suing, but what else can I do? Go to the _police_?”

“Um...” Isaac's voice wavered, “You might not have to.”

CHAPTER

Stiles felt vaguelly sick to his stomach as his father ranted to the officers inside that the Hale guy had _threatened them_ and tried to strong-arm his son away from him.

“Honestly, the way he went off about him! I should have suspected when he kept emphasizing _mate_. As if that guy deserves your attention!”

Stiles glanced up and nodded, trying not to puke on his dad's shoes.

“Seriously, Stiles, I know I was pressuring you to take him seriously, but I was wrong. Your first instinct was clearly right about him. What a neanderthal! You'll find someone better than him.”

Stiles smiled weakly as his dad rubbed his shoulder and gave him a supportive grin.

“Sure, dad.”

“I can't believe he implied I was abusing you. Honestly. I'm not _keeping you_ from dating. Some people are so old fashioned... and if _I'm_ saying that you know it's bad!”

“Uh huh,” Stiles nodded, more than a bit worried. He was regretting everything he'd done in the past few months, from sassing Derek, to going to bed with him, to opening up to him, to rejecting him. He was worried about what Erica had said about a video. He was worried about how empty and meaningless his life would feel without Derek's hungry pursuit. He couldn't look more than a day ahead without feeling like everything was pointless. However, his dad had just fallen off the wagon, and that meant at least a week of drunken rants while Stiles tried to keep him safe. 90% of the time his father was supportive, loving, and gave him loads of pep talks about how his blue eyes wouldn'tmean anything to the right guy. Then he'd fall off the wagon and for a solid week life was a living hell for Stiles. Once he couldn't justify calling out anymore he'd sober up, shake for a bit, and then be back to being the world's best dad. Stiles couldn't help but hate that he could just switch it on and off again. It felt like a lie. Like he was using the alcohol as an excuse to let out a year of pent-up hate for Stiles. It made Stiles die a little inside every time.

_Someday he'll die and what will I do? Alone? Packless? I'll turn gamma. I'll die. I can't even be sad or worried about that. That's... not good._

As he usually did, John sobered up and demanded fried food because he 'deserved' it for dumping out his whiskey bottles down the sink and going a solid day on coffee instead of booze. Stiles couldn't manage to eat at the cafe, but he did get a few crackers and a soda down while staring miserably at the table. Everything just felt so _hopeless_ after spending a week listening to his flaws being screamed at him by the only person in his life who usually gave a shit about him. What was even the point?

“Then Sarah gave me some lip for not filling out my paperwork. That woman is always on my ass. Think I'll ask her out,” John muttered, “Can't stay alone forever. What kind of example am I setting for you?”

“Mmhm.”

“You listening?”

“Yeah, you should ask Sarah out.”

“She is a mighty fine woman, but not a mate. I would rather date people who don't smell like a mate to me. Just hurts too much, you know?”

Stiles winced but John's eyes were on his fries. He didn't notice Stiles' misery and he wouldn't remember his rants from the week before. Stiles didn't think it was the alcohol, he figured he couldn't face the way he behaved. He blocked it out. Stiles was a bit jealous. He wished _he_ could block out his dad's actions.

“Look, kiddo, I owe you an apology,” John gave him a grimace and Stiles glanced up in shock.

“An apology? Really?” Stiles asked, a bit of hope blossoming in his heart.

“Yeah, looks like I managed to use up my vacation time again,” He continued poking at his food, “And some of the vacation money. I know you were looking forward to going to the Grand Canyon, but it's just not going to happen this year.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, “I wasn't really expecting it to.”

“You weren't?”

“Well... no offense daddy-o... but you promised me that four years ago and have canceled every single year since because you went on a bender and used up the vacay time. I'm not even into seeing wonders of the world anymore.”

“No?” He asked, skipping over most of what Stiles had said.

“Uh-uh.”

“What are you into now?”

“Marvel.”

“The... the comics?”

“And movies.”

“Right, we watched that Thor one, right?”

“Yeah, Thor, and a bunch of others. I think you fell asleep through the last Iron Man one.”

“Oh yeah, you were crying,” John nodded.

“Yeah, it was really sad.”

“Well, maybe you could join a club or something? Meet someone into Marvel.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Good thing is: no traveling!”

“Yeah, good thing,” Stiles forced on a smile.

CHAPTER

Derek stood up from the sofa abruptly when Isaac walked in the door, but like all four days prior he grimaced, shook his head, and then ducked it as he headed for the bathroom to freshen up after work. Derek sunk back down into the couch with a groan.

“Where the hell is he?” Derek growled, opening up his laptop again.

“Checking the obituaries is _not_ helping,” Erica insisted, closing it on his fingers.

“Damn it, Erica!”

“We are going about this all wrong,” She told him firmly, “And also your moping is annoying.”

“What the hell do you want me to do? My mom's lawyer said I don't have a right to information about him. I'm not his _legal mate_.” Derek snarled, “The police glared me out of the station!”

“That,” Erica's eyebrows rose, “Is impressive. Someone out glared _you?”_

“Shut it,” Derek growled, “How many days in a row could he call out of work?”

“Apparently at least four,” Erica sighed, “Luckily for you, I don't listen very well.”

Derek's eyes narrowed, “What did you do?”

“Went to his work while Isaac was on break.”

“Erica,” Derek groaned, “His dad already thinks I'm a neanderthal, if my pack stalks him-”

“So you don't want his home address?” She asked, holding up a slip of paper.

Derek dove for it, “How the hell did you get this?!”

“They're called boobs,” She replied, flicking her hair over her shoulder and tossing herself artfully down into a chair, “So now what?”

Derek stared at the address with his face scrunched up. Stiles called it his 'constipated face'.

“He rejected me.”

“Yet you're still pining for him,” She replied.

“I just want to make sure he's not hurt. Like Isaac was.”

“You really think there are _two_ guys sick enough to lock their kids in an ice chest in this tiny ass town?”

“You heard the guy.”

“I heard _your_ guy say he rejected you, but you're still pining for him. You know what that means, don't you?”

“It means I'm _worried-”_

“Pining,” Isaac exited the bathroom and flopped down on the couch, “You're not worrying. You're _pining.”_

“And moping,” Erica agreed, “It's tragic, really.”

Derek let out a slow breath, “If his rejection didn't take it means this isn't just a physical attraction anymore.”

“You got it bad, big boy,” Erica told him sadly.

“Unrequited love,” Derek's mouth twisted like he'd sucked on a lemon, “So much for being a playboy.”

“Oh, honey,” Erica sighed, “That was never you anyway.”

Derek sighed and stood up, pacing the room for a moment. Everything in him wanted to rush to his house, but he'd just worked out and he was sweaty and gross. He told himself a few more minutes wouldn't matter after four days and took a quick shower, dressed comfortably in a tight sweat shirt, and headed out without meeting the eyes of his packmates. He was halfway down the hallway when Isaac opened the door and called for him.

“Derek?” Isaac asked, “Listen, there's something you should know.”

“I'm listening?” Derek replied, although he had one foot on the step below and was looking down the stairwell in longing.

“He won't leave with you.”

“What?” Derek turned to face him fully, angry and hurt.

“It's not that you aren't awesome, because you are. He obviously thinks so, too. It's just... it's so hard to leave in that situation. You have to understand. That's his _dad._ It's the guy who raised him. Who he's always looked up to, even when he was a wreck. As a kid, knowing he helped create and raise you, there's this sense of responsibility. This feeling that you absolutely have to take care of them, even when they hurt you. Like you owe them and you'll never stop owing them because the debt is too big. It will never be repaid, it will just... get bigger with every word they use to put you down. Every time you disappoint them, even though there's no way not to.”

Isaac's voice cracked and Derek returned at a slow pace to pull him gently into his arms and press a kiss to his forehead.

“You left. You're free, and you don't owe that bastard anything.”

“I know that now, but Stiles doesn't. That's what I'm trying to tell you. You don't have to win him over, Derek. Anyone with eyes can see he adores you. You have to convince him to love _himself_ enough to leave.”

“Thank you,” Derek gave him another gentle squeeze and turned to hurry down the steps.

CHAPTER

Stiles was sure he had lost his job. Of course he had. He had called out way too many days in a row with no doctor's note, but if he _hadn't_ been there, he'd have lost his dad. The guy could go overboard fast, and Stiles was usually run ragged trying to get water and food into him while avoiding his vicious barbs. If he pretended the words didn't hurt they'd die off sooner, but then the crying would start. He was often afraid he'd go so far as to kill himself.

So when Stiles called up his job again he put on his peppiest voice, told his boss his dad was feeling better, and that he could come in whenever he needed him.

“Say the word and I'll cover some extra shifts. I'm not in classes right now-” He'd had to drop the only one he'd been taking because he'd missed so much time- “So feel free to use and abuse me. Double time. Tripple time. I _will_ make this rough patch up to you, Joe.”

His boss made a strangled sound and then cleared his throat a few times, “I'm... ah... sure that won't be necessary. Unless you need the money?”

“I'm a college kid, I always need the money,” Stiles pointed out unhelpfully while he wondered why he wasn't fired, “Wait, I still have a job? I mean, not to push my luck here, but this is kind of surprising.”

“You've always been an exceptional worker,” Joe insisted, “We love you here. You know that, right? That we appreciate you?”

“Uh, wow, that's... that's really nice to hear.”

“You should hear that more often,” His boss stated, voice firm and deeply emotional.

“Is everything okay?” Stiles worried, “Did something happen while I was cleaning up after dad's stomach flu?”

There was an exagerated pause and then his boss asked gently, “Have you been watching the news?”

“Not... really? It makes dad mad.”

“Don't, then,” He burst out, “Look, Stiles... someone... someone filmed something in a police station. The news released it with faces blurred out. Part of that Black Lives Matter thing, you know? Police corruption?”

“O....kay?” Stiles drew out, a feeling of dread building in his chest.

“I'm guessing your dad hasn't been back to work yet?”

“N-no.”

“The faces were blurred out,” He stated again.

Stiles' hands were shaking as he tried to open and turn on his laptop while keeping the phone to his ear.

“Yeah, that's... I mean... I never know if that's good or not, right?” Stiles tried conversationally, “Because then there's no accountability.”

“It... wasn't very effective,” The guy replied gently, “It's a small town. People know your voice. His voice. Stiles... you don't have to stay there. There are groups. Places that will help you get on your feet, and I can give you extra hours. My cousin owns a coffee shop. If you took on two jobs and put off school for a bit you'd be completely independent. You don't deserve the way he treats-”

Stiles hung up the phone. There was a youtube video. _It had gone viral._ Stiles sat on the bed and let the panic wash over him. There was no stopping this now. His dad was already at work, probably in a room meeting with IA. He'd lose his job. He'd lose his will to live. He'd come home and start a fresh bender and this time it would be worse because there wouldn't be a light at the end of the tunnel. He'd _never stop drinking_. Stiles' life was about to become absolute hell. For a horrible moment Stiles' mind went to a dark, dangerous place. It was almost hypnotic. He found himself standing in his dad's office looking at his gun safe and wondering which combination his dad had cycled out. His hobby gun would be in there. The one he favored over his official side arm. He liked to go out and shoot it at the gun range to blow off steam.

“What are you doing?”

Stiles jumped a mile in the air and spun around, staring at his dad with wide eyes as he stood in the doorway. He looked ragged, haunted, and his badge and side arm were missing. Stiles' gut clenched and he tensed, hugging himself as he braced for the rant that was about to follow. There was no way in hell that he hadn't burned what little money they had left on booze on the way home.

“Stiles?” His father asked, real fear in his voice. He reached out and then jerked his hand back, “Maybe we should talk in the living room.”

“Talk?” Stiles asked, and winced at the fear in his voice.

So did his dad. He was... sober?

Stiles followed him out to the living room and sat in his usual spot on the couch while his dad sat in his chair and ran his hands over his face and the back of his head while breathing out slowly.

“Look, I'm not mad,” John's voice cracked, “I _did_ lose my job, but it was because of my actions, not because of the video.”

“Okay,” Stiles replied softly.

“I just want to know why you... why you put it on the internet instead of just showing it to me? Are you that afraid of me? Are you _afraid_ of me? Shit, Stiles, have I been hitting you?”

Stiles' eyes slid to one side, “I didn't put it anywhere. I didn't even know we were being filmed. I think it was that Isaac guy in Derek's pack. He might have been trying to embarrass _me_ and got you by accident. He hates my guts. I'm really sorry, dad. I didn't... I never wanted to cost you your _job_. I know how much it means to you.”

“You mean more to me than that job, Stiles,” John insisted, clasping his hands together and choking on a sob, “You didn't answer my question. Are you afraid of me? Have I hit you?”

Stiles glanced at him sideways, “You don't remember?”

He shook his head, eyes pleading.

Stiles sighed and rubbed at the back of his head, “You've thrown things. Not at me, but they've hit me. I'm not afraid _of_ you. I'm afraid _for_ you. You're going to kill yourself. Either with the booze or you're going to eat your gun. It's scary as hell and I hate it.”

“Why didn't you say anything?” He pleaded.

Stiles shrugged, eyes shifting away, “Most of the time you're the best dad ever. Then you go on a bender, and it's usually because something I did reminded you of... of _her._ ”

“Of your _mom,”_ He said, “God, are you afraid to talk about her with me?”

“I'm not _afraid,”_ Stiles stammered, “Stop calling me a cowards.”

“It's not cowardly to feel a certain way after you've been _abused_ , Stiles!” John sobbed again, hanging his head and breaking down completely.

Stiles didn't know what to do. He didn't like seeing his dad like this and was completely dumbfounded. He felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under him. This wasn't the reaction he was used to. His dad should be drunk at this point. He should be ranting and screaming at him. Stiles was downright skittish at this point, trembling and staring at his dad in horror. He wanted to _run._ He was experiencing fight, flight, or freeze, and despite insisting he wasn't afraid _before_ he very much was afraid now. Except he couldn't move. He didn't know what to say for the first time in his life, and he was spiraling towards a panic attack while his dad just broke down in front of him.

Then the doorbell rung and it was like a starter pistol had gone off. He bolted for the door and yanked it open, eyes wide and breath fast. When he saw who was on the other side the damn broke. Years of oppressive pain and anxiety came bubbling to the surface as Stiles went from a fright and freeze spiral straight to pure, unadulturated FIGHT. His eyes, so long a source of shame, burned with hot, blue rage.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE, YOU ARROGANT, IGNORANT PIECE OF SHIT?!”

CHAPTER

Derek pulled up to the house with a feeling of anxiety burning in his chest. It came from his stomach, which was apparently pumping his stomach acids up his throat where they were burning through his esophagus and into his lungs and heart. He sat in front of Stiles' house in his confident looking car and wondered if he should go to the hospital instead of into the house.

Stiles' jeep was in the driveway but his dad's cruiser wasn't. Derek was still confused about the vehicle thing. Every other cop in the county dropped theirs off at the station and had their _own_ cars. He had a beaten up cop car as his own personal car. It didn't even match the other vehicles. He was fairly certain he'd built it himself and somewhat wanted to talk to him about it. Derek did car work as a hobby, sort of like his way to burn off steam. It could be a way for them to bond before he married Stiles in his happy little daydream palace, since the chances of it actually happening were slim to none at this point.

Derek steeled himself and stood up, heading for the door with a fistful of flowers in one hand and his heart in the other. He had to get through to Stiles. He just had to. His _life_ could very well be on the line. Everyone knew that abusers escalated. With werewolf healing it was so damn easy to hide bruises, even if his dad _was_ an alpha. A week was long enough for the initial ones to heal, and Stiles wore layers. Possibly for to hide the rest. Bit of cologne and unless you were very close to him you wouldn't notice the smell of bruises. If he died Derek wouldn't know what to do with himself. Probably just wilt away slowly and pathetically.

Derek stood there for a solid ten minutes before he finally rang the bell. Silence. He strained his ears, but like most houses the damn thing was sound proof. He couldn't hear inside unless he was near the windows. He debated for a while and then decided that he had to be a creeper and at least snoop if not break in. Stiles could be in serious danger and Derek was the only one who gave a shit about him outside of his home... or in it.

Derek slipped around to the front window and peered in. No one was in the living room. He frowned and moved around to the back, easily leaping onto the roof of the screened in back porch and peering in his bedroom window.

Stiles was on his bed, head in some strangers lap while the guy ran his fingers through his hair. Something in Derek broke and then solidified into cold hard rage. He tensed to burst through the window, planning on ripping the guy apart, but Stiles lifted his head to look up at the guy, his face puffy from crying. The other guy pulled him in for a hug, patting his back and sniffling himself.

Stiles had someone to comfort him. Derek should be fucking _happy for him._ He wasn't. He was hurt and sad and wanted to be the one in there holding him, but he wasn't going to ruin something important for him.

A whistle from down below caught his attention and Derek frowned down at the cop standing below him, arms folded, shaking his head in disappointment as if he were Derek's dad. Derek frowned.

“Fuck off, he's my mate.”

“Not from what I hear, he isn't. Get down here. Now.”

The officer had a key to Stiles' house, because of course he did. He put Derek in the cruiser with mountain ash cuffs on his wrists, knocked twice, then unlocked the door and let himself in. Thirty minutes later Stiles came out, still in his jammies and a robe looking adorable as hell. Stiles knocked on the window, made a 'roll it down' motion, laughed at his own joke, and then opened the door.

“What the hell, Derek?” Stiles sighed.

“I wasn't peeping. I was making sure your dad hadn't beaten you to death. I'm glad you have a friend. Tell him not to get comfy, because I'm not giving up on you. Not now. Not ever.”

“What?” Stiles asked, looking baffled, “I rejected you.”

“Doesn't matter,” Derek shook his head, “I still feel a pull towards you. I'm not going to harass you- despite what this looks like- but I'm still going to court you. Properly this time. No more sex. I brought you flowers but _he_ took them away.”

“Okay. Uh huh. This is an interesting and also disturbing development. Scott's my friend from childhood. He saw the video, realized he was an ass when he dumped me because my eyes were blue, and showed up to make sure I was okay.”

Derek's jaw worked, “Be careful with that. I'm glad you have support outside of me _not_ stalking you, but if he disappeared once he could do it again- and at a critical time.”

Stiles considered his words and nodded his head thoughtfully, “You're really doing this? Courting me even though we don't smell like mates to each other anymore?”

“People fall in love with people who aren't their mates all the time, get married, and live long lives together. It just so happens I know you're my mate even though you don't smell like it anymore. If anything, it means my head is more clear now. So, thank you for that. It helps me focus to not have your scent clogging up my nose with lust all the time. Lets me focus on _you._ I'm worried about you. I own a building up town. I have a vacancy. You can live there, rent free, until you're ready to get on your feet. No time limit. No pressure. No owing me for it. I won't have a key.”

“That's a really generous offer,” Stiles replied, “It's a little psychotic, but I appreciate it.”

Derek nodded and Stiles straightened up to talk to the guy who had arrested him, “Hey, Parrish? Where are my flowers?”

The hellhound sighed and pointed to the top of Stiles' jeep, “Over there. You want me to let him go?”

“And give him the impression that looking in my bedroom window is _ever_ any kind of okay? Nah, book him Dann-o.”

Stiles shut the cop car door and walked back into his house while Derek ground his teeth and stewed.

CHAPTER

Scott gave Stiles the biggest, saddest, puppy dog look he'd ever seen and actually _whimpered._

“I... I was worried about you. I know I don't have a leg to stand on. I was just a kid, though, you know? I didn't understand, and then you seemed to move on, but I saw the video and I thought maybe you weren't moving on. Maybe you were hurting and withdrawn instead. Maybe you needed someone to talk to and I just _abandoned_ you, but if I'm wrong I'll-”

Scott hiccupped and started crying on his porch and Stiles jerked forward and grabbed him into a tight hug.

“Thank fuck you're hear, I'm so fucking wrecked right now,” Stiles sobbed.

Scott held him tightly and Stiles felt their old pack bond stutter back into life. It was such a huge relief that Stiles went limp in his arms, forcing Scott to scoop him up into his arms like a stereotype. Scott hurried inside, kicking the door shut.

“You will _never speak of this to anyone_ ,” Stiles choked out.

“No one,” Scott agreed, still sniffling, “Just wait here.”

Scott put him down on the steps and headed into the living room.

“Mr. Stilinski.”

“Scott? What are you-”

“I called Eichen. They have a room for you. Please pack a bag, sir.”

“You have never in your life called me sir,” John replied.

“I'm hanging on to what little respect I still have for you, and I'll do it until you're able to be the man I know you can be again. Now, sir. Pack a bag.”

Stiles heard his father stand in the other room, heard him slowly walk forward and clap Scott on the shoulder, “Thank you. For... everything. Mostly for coming back. He's missed you.”

“I missed him, too,” Scott replied, “I never should have left.”

“No, you shouldn't have, but we're only werewolves. We make mistakes. Hopefully we get forgiven for them.”

“This is Stiles we're talking about. He doesn't hold grudges. No matter how much either of us don't deserve it, he's already over it.”

John walked into the hall, then past Stiles on his way up the steps, not giving him his usual hair ruffle. Stiles knew he'd have to be the one to initiate contact again. He'd have to probably force him to hug him goodbye. It was going to suck. Scott sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulder, pulling Stiles into him. The omega sagged against his shoulder and snuggled in to breathe in his scent right by his neck. He'd have to come back to that forgiveness thing later though. It just wasn't that simple, but for now he desperately needed some support.

Stiles did eventually go upstairs to help his dad pack, more to be with him than anything else, but also to fuss over him with a steady fondness. He nagged him into bringing extra socks and underwear, held his hand while Scott drove Stiles' jeep to Eichen, and then hugged him for a solid ten minutes before Scott pried him off so he could be admitted into rehab. Stiles cried the whole way back, but it was in relief rather than devastation. His father was _finally_ getting help. It wouldn't work the first time- it never did- but it was a start. A positive start, and one that made him feel like something might actually get better. At the very least he was facing what he'd done, and maybe that meant that Stiles could stand up to him if it happened again. Or maybe it wouldn't. Maybe he'd at least get to the point where he wasn't blaming Stiles for his mother's death. Stiles thought he could tolerate the occasional bender if he didn't have to relive his mother's death every time. Even if he did get shit thrown at him.

“It's going to be okay,” Scott insisted, petting Stiles' hair while he sobbed in his lap in his room later on, “He's a strong guy. He'll get through it and you two will be even closer.”

“I know. It's just really hard, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Scott soothed.

The doorbell rang, but Stiles ignored it, “I wish he'd done this years ago. Why didn't I make him?”

“Because he's your _dad_ and your pack alpha _._ You were expecting him to be the leader, just like he is at work, just like stereotypes are telling you he should be at home. It's normal, Stiles. Sometimes someone else has to show up and help you through stuff.”

They just snuggled for a while after that, making Stiles feel like he was eight again. They had been so close before his mother had died that people had assumed they'd be mated. Now Stiles didn't even know if his best friend was with someone. So they spent some time catching up, Scott filling him in on his sporadic dating life while Stiles admitted to his years of useless flings.

“He made me feel special,” Stiles admitted, “Like I was precious to him. Then he saw my damn eyes and everything went to hell. _Everything._ So I did what I usually do and pushed him away. Why am I so good at something so toxic?”

“Because you hate yourself,” Scott replied, “And most of us are complicit in that, Stiles. You learned to hate yourself really young and you need as much help as your dad does.”

“I'm in therapy, Scott,” Stiles sighed.

“Your therapist had no idea your dad was abusing you and hasn't helped. You need a new therapist. Badly.”

“Or I could be honest with this one.”

“Stiles, if they haven't figured out you're keeping shit from them, then they never connected with you and you won't get the help you need. Move on. From both the shrink and the guy you couldn't keep. If he was willing to settle for a sex only relationship, then he wasn't the right guy for you.”

“But he wasn't. He wanted more. I was the one who was willing to settle for a sex only relationship.”

Scott seemed flummoxed at that so Stiles sat up and met his eyes.

“Does that mean I'm not the right one for him?”

“Uh...” Scott floundered, “There were extenuating circumstances. You're, like, traumatized.”

“So, maybe he is, too. I don't know much about him. For all I know his whole family died in a fire set by his last girlfriend and him trying to sabotage us originally was because of deep seeded feelings of inadequacy, fear of intimacy, and guilt.”

“That was a really elaborate backstory, how long have you been working on that?”

“Since we met. I've got a few others. Wanna hear them? I turned the best one into a comic book.”

“Oo, comics book one!”

This time the knock was on his bedroom door and Stiles jumped, but the door opened before he could worry his dad had broken out of Eichen. It was Parrish.

“Hey Stiles. You've got another stalker.”

“Oh no, did Matt get out of prison? Tell me Matt's not out of prison.”

“How many crazy ex boyfriends do you have?” Scott asked in horror.

“No, Matt's still locked up. New one. Counting this one it's four,” Parrish replied, “And one crazy ex girlfriend. She's... actually terrifying. I have nightmares.”

“She's still the best lay I've ever had,” Stiles sighed, “I don't think I have a new one?”

“Dark hair? Scary eyebrows? Could benchpress me? Probably not someone you should have fucked with?”

“Derek?” Stiles asked, jolting to his feet, “He's here? He came back? After _I rejected him?”_

Stiles bolted down the steps and out to the cop car to find Derek sulking like a big baby. He jokingly knocked on the window while stalling for time mentally, because seeing him gave Stiles goosebumps and made him breathy and hungry and hopeful and Stiles didn't think he could afford that. When he opened the door Derek looked up at him with such resigned misery that Stiles' heart skipped a beat. However, he'd been there with stalkers and knew he had to be firm even though he wanted to climb into the car and snuggle with him. Derek had crossed a line. Stiles couldn't let him think that his behavior was okay. So he stopped joking and plastered on a pissed off expression.

“What the hell, Derek?” Stiles grumped.

“I wasn't peeping. I was making sure your dad hadn't beaten you to death. I'm glad you have a friend. Tell him not to get comfy, because I'm not giving up on you. Not now. Not ever.”

“What?” Stiles asked, head reeling. If Derek didn't accept it that meant only one thing. He actually _loved Stiles._ Without the initial bond. “I rejected you.”

“Doesn't matter,” Derek shook his head, “I still feel a pull towards you. I'm not going to harass you- despite what this looks like- but I'm still going to court you. Properly this time. No more sex. I brought you flowers but _he_ took them away.”

Derek jerked his chin towards Parrish and actually _pouted._ Shit. Stiles was gone on him. It was all over. No more slutty Stiles, he was going to have to settle down and have cubs with this guy. Shit. He didn't want kids. Maybe he should mention that?

“Okay. Uh huh. This is an interesting and also disturbing development. Scott's my friend from childhood. He saw the video, realized he was an ass when he dumped me because my eyes were blue, and showed up to make sure I was okay.”

Derek's jaw worked, “Be careful with that. I'm glad you have support outside of me _not_ stalking you, but if he disappeared once he could do it again- and at a critical time.”

Stiles felt his stomach clench and mentally acknowledged that he had that same fear. He knew he shouldn't be allowing this, but damn it Derek felt safe. He felt like someone who could protect him. He felt safer than Scott did, and that said something since once upon a time Scott had been like his brother.

“You're really doing this? Courting me even though we don't smell like mates to each other anymore?”

“People fall in love with people who aren't their mates all the time, get married, and live long lives together. It just so happens I know you're my mate even though you don't smell like it anymore. If anything, it means my head is more clear now. So, thank you for that. It helps me focus to not have your scent clogging up my nose with lust all the time. Lets me focus on _you._ I'm worried about you. I own a building up town. I have a vacancy. You can live there, rent free, until you're ready to get on your feet. No time limit. No pressure. No owing me for it. I won't have a key.”

“That's a really generous offer,” Stiles replied after a pause in which his heart absolutely wrapped itself up for Derek with a bow, “It's a little psychotic, but I appreciate it.”

Derek nodded and Stiles forced himself to walk away, because this was _still creepy_ , “Hey, Parrish? Where are my flowers?”

The hellhound sighed and pointed to the top of Stiles' jeep, “Over there. You want me to let him go?”

“And give him the impression that looking in my bedroom window is _ever_ any kind of okay? Nah, book him Dann-o.”

Stiles shut the cop car door and walked back into his house to deal with Scott. He knew he had to be smart about this. He wanted his best friend back in his life, but he didn't want to have to worry that he'd be abandoned again. Scott just took his forgiveness for granted, and it was true that Stiles would forgive him fast, but he didn't need another source of anxiety in his life. He already expected that his dad would die any day now. He expected Derek to get tired of waiting for him. He needed to know that Scott at least would be his rock from now on.

“For the record, I'm still mad at you. I _will_ forgive you, but we need to talk,” Stiles stated as he watched Scott refocus after having spied on the conversation from the car from the open window in his dad's room.

“That's completely fair,” Scott replied, shutting the window, “But let's be honest, you've forgiven me.”

“No, I really haven't,” Stiles groaned, slouching down on his dad's bed and breathing in his scent for strength, “We aren't ten anymore, Scott.”

“Yeah, but I _was ten_ ,” Scott reminded him, “And after I royally screwed the pooch, I had no idea how to fix it. You never made eye contact with me again, and I just figured that meant you were okay.”

“I wasn't okay. I'd just killed my mom, my dad was drowning in booze and rightfully blaming me for her death, and my best friend added to that guilt and trauma and left me without a soul to lean on.”

“Come on, Stiles, you were fine! You graduated top of your class after Lydia Martin! How insane is that? She's in _Mensa!”_

“I had a lot of time to study while I was hating myself and contemplating suicide. Scott, I get that you were a kid, but this sounds a lot like gaslighting.”

“Guess your shrink did teach you something,” Scott frowned, “I'm not going to apologize for being a _kid.”_

“You don't have to, I get you were young and dumb, we both were, I just don't appreciate you brushing it off. I was hurting, Scott. Can you take it seriously?”

“It wasn't my fault.”

“I'm not saying it was,” Stiles groaned, “I'm saying that you're brushing it off.”

“So what do you want me to do, wallow? Beg for forgiveness?”

“No, just... take it seriously. Like, accept that I'm going to take time to forgive you.”

“Yeah, but it's not,” Scott laughed lightly, grinning broadly and laughing a bit, “You're Stiles. You're a big, snuggly pack caretaker. You exist to pamper people. Look, this is how well I know you: You're dying to make me a big meal to both keep your hands busy and make yourself feel like you can take care of someone successfully.”

Stiles stood there, conflicted for a moment while Scott grinned at him with that crooked jaw of his and Stiles felt his stomach twist. He'd already started warming the oven because he knew how much Stiles loved his enchiladas and if he was going to serve dessert too he was going to have to bake it while he was doing the rest of the prep.

“I... I can't do this,” Stiles realized suddenly.

“Huh?” Scott looked baffled and it was a bit rewarding.

“I have to turn off the oven and pack a bag. Can you let yourself out?”

“What?”

“I can't stay here,” Stiles hurried away from him back to his own room and started shoving things into a pillow case, because he'd long ago thrown out the Superman backpack he'd taken to Scott's house for sleepovers.

“Stiles, what are you doing? I said I'd stay with you so you wouldn't be alone.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“No, because it's ridiculous,” Stiles replied, “I don't want to be here. I don't want to be in this house, where I've been abused for more than half my life waiting for my abuser to return, knowing full well that it won't 'be all better' like you think it will. Why won't it? Because rehab has a 70-80% drop out rate, and those that _don't_ drop out only have a 30% success rate! That's 30% of between 20 and 30% of all addicts who actually bother to show up willingly. Which he didn't. You made him go. I'm grateful, I am, but it's unlikely to actually work and I'm absolutely terrified of being a gamma and dying a painful death at the hands of a hunter.”

“There are hunters after you?!” Scott stammered.

“Not yet, and I won't let it get to that point. What I mean is: I can't trust you. You left during a critical time, and even if you _were_ ten, you're not taking the results seriously. I need someone who's going to stick by me. I need an _actual pack._ Not just one person hanging around to keep me sane. I have no idea if Derek is 'the one' or if there even is a 'one' for me, but he's rock solid and I don't just mean his abs.”

“Stiles, the guy is _stalking you.”_

“He said he wasn't and I hit a low point over a decade ago and never crawled out of it. Bye, Scott.”

Stiles fled out the door and jumped in his jeep. He remembered halfway to the police department that he really needed to stop speeding if his dad wasn't a sheriff anymore. He slowed himself down and took a few breaths before going in to stop them prosecuting his new landlord.

CHAPTER

Derek unlocked the door and then slid the key off the ring while Stiles walked into the big, open room.

“Obviously the reason it's still vacant is because I haven't finished cleaning up after the slob who lived here before you,” Derek huffed, putting the key down on the island counter top, “I'll finish the paint job today. You'll need furniture, right?”

“Uh... yeah, but... I mean, does it come furnished?”

“It can,” Derek shrugged, “Listen, your safety comes before me being disgustingly and embarrassingly infatuated with you, so I'm not going to resume courting you until you've moved out. I don't want you to feel like your creepy landlord is sexually harassing you. Just so we're clear and there's no miscommunications- seeing as how we're good at those- I'm still interested and that's not changing. I'm just backing off so you have a safe place to be. In my building and in my pack.”

“That's... really sweet, actually, but also pretty ridiculous. I mean you said I could stay here for as long as I need, rent free. Do you know how tempting that is for my minimum wage, 8 years of part-time college ass? What if I stay here for a hundred years and by the time I move out I'm old and wrinkly? You going to stay chaste and pining for 100 years?”

“I think I'll manage,” Derek snorted.

“You're going to be a huge slut, aren't you?” Stiles smirked, “Try to make me jealous?”

“No, I'm not,” Derek snorted, “I usually don't have time for relationships. Or casual sex.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess being a landlord takes up a lot of your time,” Stiles nodded.

“Oh, I don't manage the building. My packmate Erica does.”

“The omega woman with the absolutely amazing hair?”

Derek nodded, “She likes working with her hands. And collecting rent. By the way, she's scary so don't fuck with her.”

Stiles smirked, “I bet she has a world domination plot.”

“She... does,” Derek gave him a worried look.

“I bet it's not as good as mine.”

Derek nodded, lips pressed together, “I'm going to regret this, aren't I?”

“Yup,” Stiles popped the last letter and picked up a paintbrush, “So what do you do all the time if not manage this building?”

“Well, I'm training to be a social worker,” Derek admitted, picking up another paintbrush and climbing the latter to reach the trim at the top.

“Wow, really? I pictured you as a mechanic. Or a carpenter. Somebody's boss. Maybe a bullfighter?” Stiles mused, ruining the trim at the bottom and wiping it off with his sleeve before he realized what he'd done and getting mad at himself.

“That's not legal in this country.”

“Good, it shouldn't be. So why a social worker?”

Derek was silent a moment and Stiles thought he wouldn't answer. He wasn't the most vocal guy, but he'd been pretty communicative while trying to get Stiles to move out of his dad's place. Maybe now that he'd made some headway he'd shut down again. Stick to his usual grunts and eyebrow language.

“I was a real jackass for years. I mean... conceited, sexist, doing my best to sleep with every person I could get my hands on. Eventually I did something unredeemable.”

“Oh, that's... intense. Are you okay talking about this?”

“I've seen your worst. You might as well know mine.”

“Oh, trust me, that wasn't my worst. My worst is that my default setting is _sarcasm._ I don't trust anyone. Like... _ever._ I just told my childhood best friend that he's not sorry enough for helping ruin my life. I don't want kids. Like... _ever._ I'm child-free. 100%. Never going to change my mind, so I hope it's not a deal breaker.”

“It's not,” Derek replied, “Sorry to hear it, but it's not a deal breaker. I always assumed I'd have kids someday, but it's not something I've hoped and prayed for or something.”

“That's fair, but if it changes I'll understand.”

“You are so sure you're going to be abandoned any second,” Derek stepped down, “You remind me of all the kids I work with.”

“I thought you were still in training?”

“I am, but that's another reason I'm busy all the time. I work with three different charities, including a big-brother mentoring program.”

“Wow, that _is_ a lot. So... why? What could you do that made you feel like you had to fix everyone around you?”

“Broke my sister's heart.”

“Oh, wow, so when you said anyone you could get your hands on...?”

“I meant her _fiance_ , fucking hell, Stiles.”

“Oh my gosh, I'm so relieved. I mean, that's awful, but incest is a huge squick for me.”

Derek snorted, “She wasn't even someone I was into. Not really. Just unattainable because she was engaged, and with the crowd I ran in I hadn't encountered that yet. So I pursued her relentlessly until she caved. She confessed a day later. My sister was completely devastated, and after days of crying she talked to my mom who got the family together to have a huge intervention. They sat me down, told me what a huge piece of shit I was, and then threw me out of the house and their lives. My mom's last words to me were that if I didn't get my shit together I'd be disinherited. I couldn't afford college, so I had to drop out. I was living at school, so I ended up homeless. I arrogantly figured I could couch surf with friends. Then I found out to my utter shock that I don't have any friends. I had followers, and when my money and status vanished so did they. I lived on the streets for a month before that same sister found me, took me home, made me take a shower with her dog's flea wash, and let me sleep on her couch while she and the woman I'd seduced made new plans for their wedding.”

“They still married?”

“I wasn't invited to the wedding, but yeah. They're still together. She says it made them stronger.”

“So you learned from that that the most important people in your life would always be there for you,” Stiles sighed in disgust.

“Nope. My other sister still doesn't talk to me, my dad hasn't met my eyes in years, Laura may have helped me out but we're not close and never will be again. That's on me. My mom still thinks I'm eight and pretends that my playboy phase never happened, which makes us close to the point of embarrassing but I live for every phone call and am a total momma's boy. I formed my own pack and _they're_ the ones who are always there for me. I chose them and they chose me. I met Isaac and the hell he went through made me pick social work. I've been in training for the last two years. So... I guess now you know the worst about me.”

“Yeah, totally rivals me killing my mom, wow,” Stiles laughed bitterly, then winced, “I'm sorry. That was... shit. I didn't have much of a social life after my mom died, so all I have besides my customer service voice and that fake peppy thing I do is that sarcasm I mentioned. I'm kind of a dick.”

“Well, I'm kind of an asshole. That reminds me, when we get past this phase in our relationship I'd like to try bottoming.”

“Way to give me a boner, dude!” Stiles groaned.

Derek chuckled but looked absolutely shameless about it. They finished painting and Derek drove Stiles to the nearest store to pick out some furniture. It was kind of a dark moment for Stiles. He'd never lived away from his dad, and furniture made it feel real. Permanent. He knew he couldn't go back, even if his dad was sober. There was too much between them that was disordered.

“Most people who live in the efficiencies get futons,” Derek stated.

“Why would they do that when there are bunk beds with desks or sofas under them,” Stiles wondered.

“Because they're expensive.”

“Oh, right,” Stiles nodded, “I've never shopped for furniture before. Sorry. Um... where's the clearance section?”

“Over there,” Derek walked to the bunk beds and Stiles smothered a grin, “Pick what you want.”

CHAPTER

“I can't believe you let him buy a bunk bed,” Erica groaned, “You're treating him like one of your Brother projects! How is that romantic?”

“Are you kidding?” Derek snorted, “That huge thing is two feet, four inches from the ceiling. I didn't get it for him because he likes it and it's space efficient- which it isn't, it's huge and made of dark wood- I got it because there's no way in hell he can have sex in it.”

“Brutal,” Erica smirked, “So what's your plan?”

“I'm kind of flying by the seat of my pants,” Derek admitted, “What's on your evil, evil mind?”

Erica sighed, and Derek slouched, “I'm not going to like this, am I?”

“Look, you could be your old playboy self, slide into his DM's and manipulate him into being dependent on you instead of his abusive dad.”

Derek had to swallow hard to stop himself from throwing up, “Or?”

“Or you could do what you originally said you'd do and give him space,” She told him, “Let him grow and be himself for a while. Maybe don't help him with financial stuff like you did today? He needs his independence.”

Derek sighed and pulled Erica into his arms for a tight hug, “I hate my life.”

“I know, baby hulk. I know.”

“You know once upon a time I would have just been able to snag him, bite his neck, and keep him forever.”

“You know the saying: Mates don't come with manuals. You're just going to have to play this fast and loose and hope it works.”

“He's going to be in our pack now, so at least he'll be seeing me regularly. It's just not safe for him to stay with his dad's pack. He told me that his dad has a big pack, he's the pack alpha of it, but Stiles never bonded with _any of them._ Probably because of his mom and the Sheriff's alcoholism. That poor kid's been taking the blame for everything for most of his life. We can't let that happen here. _You_ I'm not worried about. You're probably going to steal him from me, you hellcat.”

“Probably,” She smirked, “I'll read Isaac the riot act.”

“You won't have to. He feels like shit about the video. It's Stiles who's going to need to be reigned in.”

CHAPTER

Stiles took a few days to get comfortable in his new place, moving his stuff in chunks from his dad's house and refusing help from Derek or Scott so he could do it at his own pace. He still saw Isaac at work, but the guy wouldn't meet his eyes. He wasn't sure how this pack thing was going to work and it was making him nervous, but soon the fact that he was so far and removed from his alpha thanks to rehab began to wear on him. If he'd had any other packmates he wouldn't be feeling this way, but because he was basically packless it was hard to deal with. He needed to form a new connection and he had already told Derek that he wanted a new pack. Derek's was the right choice, and he knew that. They already knew his history and weren't trying to keep his alpha away. Most likely they wouldn't be able to bond with him as well, but at least he'd have a packmate in the building who was less likely to die on him in an instant.

So eventually Stiles accepted the 'open invitation' that existed for all of Derek's packmates according to tall, dark, and sexy. Stiles walked up to the top floor and pulled out the key, but lost his nerve at the last second and just knocked. He'd been hurt, okay?

Isaac opened the door and then immediately went white and slammed it again. Stiles sighed and turned to leave, but Derek yanked it open and dragged him in by his collar. He shoved him down into the couch where Stiles sat with eyes wide in surprise for a few seconds.

“Sit down. Isaac, get him a drink or something.”

“Yes, alpha,” Isaac bolted for the fridge.

“Will you stop _submitting_ all over the place? Dumbass. Stiles, forgive him. He's been annoying the shit out of me for days,” Derek snarled, stalking into a side room and out of sight.

Stiles blinked after him and then that gorgeous blonde from the night before sat down beside him and slung her arms around him before withdrawing at top speed.

“Ew! I was trying to bond with you, not make out!”

“Why are you even saying that?” Stiles blinked in confusion.

“Uh, hello? Because you smell hot and bothered?”

“My body is confused. Usually when Derek throws me down on a surface sexy times happen.”

“Oh, good,” She laughed, “Thought all those pheromones were directed at me.”

“Nah, although I am bisexual. Just not in a relationship place right now, and my therapist says I should stop hooking up with everyone who manages to be both willing and alive. You know, get better standards.”

“Yeah, mine, too.”

“Bummer,” Stiles acknowledged.

“Yeah, but I bit her when she told me that, so now I've got a restraining order and had to get me a new therapist.”

“Yeah, me too, but because he was awful,” Stiles laughed, “You're quite the bad girl, huh?”

“Oh, didn't you know? Derek collects broken people. He's like Batman, but instead of an asylum it's a condominium full of nutcases.”

“Aw, I wanted to be Batman,” Stiles pouted.

“You could be Robin? Robin's cool,” Isaac tried, handing Stiles a beer with wide eyes.

“Robin is _not_ cool,” Stiles shook his head, “Nightwing is cool. I'll be Nightwing. You be Robin. Erica is Catwoman.”

“Yesssss,” Erica scratched the air and meowed in a sultry tone.

“Oh my gosh, you have got to meet my friend Scott.”

“Let me guess, he's single and you want him in our pack,” Erica rolled her eyes, “Why do guys always treat me like a pack magnet?”

“Oh, no, he's got his own pack, but he's an idiot around pretty women and it's _hilarious._ He'll start by giving you this big, crooked grin, then he'll try to drink and miss his mouth, then he'll...”

Stiles paused, remembering how long it had been since he saw Scott fall all over a woman. He'd gotten rid of his awkward stage. Scott was probably confident around women now, or at least not inept. Especially since he'd gotten popular in high school after they stopped hanging out together.

“Nah, you'd probably find him annoying,” Stiles slouched in the couch and sipped at his beer, “Sorry, I'm kind of shit at this whole... socializing thing.”

“I assumed so,” Erica laughed, “No one else could get close to Derek. Don't worry about it. We're pretty casual here when Isaac isn't freaking out about stuff. Seriously, Zack, come here and sit with him! Derek wants us _all_ to bond with him, not just me and the girls.”

“There are other packmates?” Stiles blinked, “I thought it was just you two.”

“Oh, honey, it's like you skipped adolescence entirely,” She pinched Stiles' cheek and he swatted her hand away.

“I'm... really sorry,” Isaac stuttered, standing in front of Stiles with two more beers in his hand, “I wasn't thinking when I sent it. I regretted it immediately. I just... I know that police don't get held accountable a lot of the time and... shit, your dad's a cop. You probably-”

“Dude. Shut up. Sit down. Bond. It's fine.”

Isaac grinned in relief and sank down beside Stiles on the couch, inching closer when Stiles opened his arm to them both. For a moment Stiles was in a Hale pack sandwich, the three of them starting the bonding with scenting. It felt good. Right.

Stiles smiled softly and leaned over to nuzzle Erica's head and then Isaac's, where he whispered into his pretty curls, “Or, we _will_ be fine after I've exacted sweet, sweet revenge upon you.”

Isaac whimpered, Erica giggled, and Derek came out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, shirtless and still slightly damp. Both Erica and Isaac withdrew fast, exclaiming about the stink of pheromones and rubbing at their noses.

“This waiting to get together until my head is on right thing is going to be long and hard,” Stiles sighed.

CHAPTER

Scott was right about one thing. Stiles needed a new therapist. So he spent the next six months jumping from one to another until he actually _clicked_ with one instead of just grabbing the first one he could afford. It helped that Derek agreed to pay for his therapy, stating with a wicked leer that it could only benefit him. Stiles had felt a bit guilty, but it wasn't as if he was paying for anything else. Stiles got a free place to live, furniture, and therapy. Stiles still paid for his food, meds, gas, and other odds and ends.

However, Derek's promise to hold off on courting him definitely didn't last... entirely. It just stopped in one spot. Every morning Stiles woke up to find a single flower on his doormat. Derek never approached him as anything but pack alpha, but that first symbol of his longing to be with Stiles was one he stuck with. Stiles sometimes took them to work with him and pinned them to his shirt with his name badge. It made him feel good to look down throughout the day or smell it's sweet fragrance. It made him feel loved, and that was a new feeling for Stiles.

Meanwhile he spent his time with the pack getting to actually _know_ Derek. The guy was still curt and surly, barely spoke and spent a lot of time scowling, but he also had a soft side. He loved to take care of his pack and the people who he worked with. During the second month of Stiles living in his condominium Derek started his job as a social worker. He had to drop a lot of his charity work, which he'd been using to keep himself busy, but it was worth it for him to have the job that he wanted. Derek lived to help others, and for a time that kept him floating. He was protecting kids, doing what he wanted to do, but eventually there came a day when he had to be there when the courts took children screaming and crying from their parents instead of just talking them through healthy choices and when that day came he went to Stiles.

Stiles opened the door to see Derek there, eyes bloodshot and jaw tense.

“What happened?” Stiles asked.

Derek pushed into Stiles' efficiency and dragged him along by his arm. He dropped into the couch, pulling Stiles down with him, and buried his face in his chest.

“Oh, wow. Okay,” Stiles petted his head, “Let it out, big guy. Whatever happened, it will pass. You'll be okay.”

“I think I traumatized those kids,” Derek choked out, “I tried to... I smiled and said comforting things, but...”

“Were the parents safe? Loving?”

Derek shook his head, “Drug addicts. They tried, but they couldn't stay sober. The youngest nearly died after eating some pills he found on the floor a year ago. They were given a second chance but-”

“Then you did the right thing,” Stiles stated firmly, “Derek, listen to me. If someone had pulled me out of my dad's house when I was ten and he'd gotten far enough from the funeral to start telling me how much he resented me... I would have screamed, cried, cursed, demanded I be returned, but I would have been _better off._ I wish you had been there to rescue me the way you did those kids today. I'm sure the parents love their kids, I'm sure they mean to be good to and for them, but addiction is a horrible disease. Some people get past it and are great parents, but some people... Derek, some people need _you_ to get the kids out because they shouldn't have to pay for their parent's illness.”

Derek sniffled a bit, and then turned his head to let out a soft breath, “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

“Yeah, well, I hear from my dad all the time about the kids who don't get taken away. The trauma isn't from you, it's from what their parents put them through. Don't get me wrong, there are bad social workers who make judgment calls based on race or sexuality, but you're not one of them. You do the right thing and your tears can be for those kid's feelings, but never, _ever_ for what you did to protect them. Don't you dare feel bad for saving them the only way the system lets you.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Derek asked softly, “I swear I haven't made up for things enough.”

“You tell me all the time to let go of my misplaced guilt, that I shouldn't blame myself for something that happened so long ago. When are you going to take your own advice?”

“Maybe when my family forgives me,” Derek whispered.

“Yeah, well... my therapist- who is a lovable asshole, and makes me realize that I have a _type-_ told me that I shouldn't hold my breath for that. So maybe you shouldn't either.”

Derek lifted his head, “Tell me I'm not paying for your therapist to sleep with you.”

“Focus, Derek. I'm trying to get you to see him, not confessing here. No, I'm not sleeping with him.”

“Good,” Derek put his head on his shoulder, “I know I don't own you, but... He shot you down, didn't he?”

“Like Burr in Hamilton,” Stiles sighed.

“You're incorrigible.”

“I'm... I'm lonely,” Stiles admitted, “I've got friends for the first time in ages, Scott and I are slowly recovering, my dad's out of rehab and doing okay, and there's this _amazing_ guy who's smart and funny and offensive. He gives me a flower a day and makes me feel like I can survive the world that's been kicking me when I'm down. Yet I'm still _lonely_. I just wish I could do the same thing for him. Maybe then we could get on the same page.”

“What page are you on?” Derek wondered.

“The page that researched how to restore a mate bond after it's been broken,” Stiles replied softly.

Derek sat up, eyes wide, “Wha- how?”

“Well, for starters, it can't. There's no way to bring back the smell of us being made for each other after a rejection,” Stiles replied.

“That's okay,” Derek told him, beautiful hazel eyes kind and understanding, “We don't need that. We just need each other.”

“Fuck,” Stiles let his head fall back against the couch, “See, you always say the right thing? How do you do that?”

“Years of saying the wrong thing,” Derek admitted.

“So... there's a way to make it... special again. Not the same, but still... special.”

“Okay. How?”

“You'd claim me.”

Derek sat up fully, separating them and looking uncomfortable, “That's... archaic. People don't do that from the door, they do that after... ten years together. Twenty. It's something people do after a renewal of vows, not to start out.”

“Well, we're not other people,” Stiles replied, looking down at his fingers, “I just... I want to feel like someone's going to be there for me forever. If you bite me the smell will return for you, and I'll have that craving that omegas get when they're claimed.”

“There's no way for you to return it,” Derek shook his head, “Stiles it won't fix how you feel because you can't claim me back. It's a one-way thing. That's why people stopped doing it. It's unequal.”

“Weeeell, about that,” Stiles smiled softly, “I already know that you'll want me forever, because seriously. It's been ages and I made you _miserable_ already, so I think we can get through anything. That said, it _is_ unequal... unless you get a tattoo.”

Derek groaned, rolled his eyes, and dramatically threw himself back against the couch, “Where are you expecting me to tat your name, you collosal asshole?”

Stiles snickered, “Actually, I was thinking of a tattoo of my bite mark on your neck. Like I'd claimed you.”

Derek paused and Stiles sniffed the air, “Shut up.”

“Holy shit, you are _so turned on.”_

“Shut _up.”_

“You're going to do it. You're actually going to get my tooth impression tattooed on your neck.”

“I think I have to ask you to marry me first,” Derek pointed out.

“Okay?” Stiles asked, biting his bottom lip.

Derek stood up, “Well, I'd better get upstairs. It's my turn to make dinner. You joining us?”

“Sure, yeah,” Stiles nodded eagerly.

“Okay, see you upstairs,” Derek pecked a kiss to his cheek and left without a backward glance.

“What the fuck just happened?” Stiles asked the empty room.

CHAPTER

Derek gave his packmates money for food and kicked them out. He made spaghetti, lit candles, and put the next day's flower on the table in a slender vase. He'd pick up another for Stiles.

ATTEMPT #3 SERIOUSLY?!?!

CHAPTER

“He's _annoying_ ,” Isaac whined, “Why are you even doing this if you don't want to date him?”

“I have to,” Derek replied angrily while he adjusted his tie, “It's instinct. How do I look?”

“Like you're going to a charity ball right after a funeral,” Erica replied in dry tones.

“Well, what would you wear?” Derek snapped angrily, pulling off his tie with sharp motions that heated up the fabric at his neck.

“A low cut scoop neck black dress with a purple choker, six inch stiletto heels, and too much make up,” She replied as if it was obvious, “But I don't think-”

“Will it fit?” Derek asked, giving her a feral grin, “You have one that stretches, right?”

“You can't be serious,” Erica asked, hand on her hip, “You're going to make an _idiot_ out of yourself!”

“We already knew that,” Isaac laughed, “Let him wear the dress! I'll record the whole thing!”

“Okay,” Erica cackled, “But only because he doesn't _actually_ want the guy!”

Erica sped off to her room and Isaac followed her with a gleeful giggle. Derek trailed after at a sedate pace with a sick feeling in his gut. He didn't want him. Of course he didn't. It was only setting himself up for sorrow.

An hour later Derek dropped Isaac off at the front door and then drove around for ten minutes to find an open parking meter. There must have been an event because it was unusually busy in town. Finally Derek got out of the car, a bright red, sparkly purse hanging over his arm, new red kitten heel pumps on his feet, and a black dress that was two sizes too small hugging every inch of his body from shoulder to mid-thigh. He walked down the street with his head high because wearing a dress like an omega wasn't shameful, damn it, being an omega wasn't _bad_ , but dressing like one to chase a guy off sure as hell made it feel like it was. It made him feel like he was mocking both Erica _and_ Stiles, like he was badmouthing his carrier. Derek made it all the way to the door and then turned around, red faced and ashamed of his own actions, but Isaac banged on the window and scowled at him so he swallowed it down and went in.

Stiles was stocking cards by the register, so he was close to where Derek entered. He had some weird... black... wire things on his face? They were framing his eyes, making the whiskey orbs absolutely _pop_ , and Derek stared at him a moment with his mouth hanging open while Stiles stared at him right back before jerking them off and stammering anxiously.

“I don't need them! Not to see! It's not that I've got some sort of serious flaw or something! It's just a lazy eye!”

“A what eye?” Derek asked in confusion.

“A lazy eye, it's this thing where the muscles in one eye are weaker and- look, it's not a big deal! I wore an eye patch as a kid, and now I wear glasses, and our kids _could_ have them but... I MEAN _MY_ KIDS! OH MY GOD!”

Stiles slammed both hands over his face, bending the wire things. Derek thought he'd called them glasses, but they didn't look like they held drinks to him. Derek cleared his throat, trying to get Stiles to notice him in the dress.

Stiles peaked out from behind his hands and then did a double take and stared down Derek's body with wide, lust-filled eyes. He didn't see one of his eyes looking 'lazy', but at the moment they were glazed so perhaps it was difficult to tell.

“Well,” Derek squeaked without meaning to, “This is me! So. Want to go out for coffee?”

“Uh-huh,” Stiles whimpered, mouth still hanging open.

“You... really?”

“Mm,” Stiles' mouth clicked shut, and he swallowed his spit dramatically, “Uh. Um. Yes. Yes, I'd love to coffee. Go out for coffee. Was this meant to, like, show me your flaws? Because I gotta say, this is working for me.”

“It is?” Derek gave Isaac a stunned look. He was grinning like the Cheshire cat while filming the whole thing on his cell phone.

“Absolutely. Long as we're being _brutally_ honest with each other, you should probably know I'm a _huge_ slut.”

“You're a what now?” Derek's head jerked back towards Stiles, voice dropping an octave.

“Yeah. Gigantic slag. Never been with an alpha before, so supposedly it doesn't count, but let's remedy that, shall we?”

Stiles stepped forward, slipped his arm through Derek's, and started power walking them towards the back room he'd fled to last time Derek had been there. Derek nearly fell in his heels, but once he got his feet back under him he was pulled along in Stiles' wake. They pushed through the swinging doors and Stiles pinned him to the edge of a shelf with eyes that flashed a hungry gold. Derek's eyes flashed red back and Stiles groaned in desire.

“I'm just... I have to do this. I seriously... say stop if you have to, but I'm just gonna go for it.”

So stating, Stiles dropped to his knees and put his hands on Derek's silk-covered knees, and slowly slid them upwards. Derek watched with jaw dropped as the black skirt was pulled up until Derek stood there in a pair of boxer briefs that were straining beneath his turgid cock. Stiles licked his lips and then mouthed the front of the briefs, hot breath teasing Derek's cock.

Derek could smell Stiles' slick inside his skirts, even through the lube-protecting underwear he must be wearing. He was drenched: wet for Derek and doubtless aching for him. Derek gasped and panted as Stiles pulled his undergarments down and studied his cock with a soft little sound off wonder.

“It's so much bigger than I thought,” Stiles moaned, “Oh, that would feel amazing in-”

The head of his cock slid into Stiles' mouth as Derek's hips canted forward in need and Stiles simply opened up and accepted him in. Derek let out a stuttering breath of wonder and shock as those pretty lips wrapped around him and suckled gently, eyes falling shut in wonder. Derek couldn't stop the soft grunt that left his throat, and barely covered his mouth in time when Stiles began to suck and bob with enthusiasm and skill. Derek let his head fall back, but then threw it forward so he could _watch._

For a moment Derek hesitated, but as Stiles became more sure and aggressive in sucking his cock, Derek did reach down and tangle his fingers in the omega's styled hair. Stiles moaned and Derek couldn't stop panting in lust. His knot grew and Derek wanted nothing more than to come already but he'd never had an _omega_ touch him. He thought perhaps he had to wait until Stiles had done first. It seemed the right thing to do, but then the talented creature gripped his knot tightly with one fist and began experimenting with different grips until Derek let out a choked cry and came until his mouth was full and overflowing. When Derek managed to open his eyes again and stared down at him the omega was drenched all down his shirt with Derek's release.

“That was hot,” Stiles gasped, swallowing a few more times, “And ridiculous. You come buckets. Did you know?”

Derek nodded mutely and Stiles laughed a bit and stood up quickly.

“Come here,” Derek insisted, “Come up here, let me...”

Stiles stood, and Derek had no trouble at all pulling him in for a kiss to taste himself on the omega's toungue. Derek gripped him tightly with one arm around his waist and used the other to slide Stiles' skirt up his leg until he could reach below. Stiles was soaking when Derek slid his hand beneath his underwear and found his drenched cleft. He slid two fingers into him with ease and Stiles let out a punched sound before shuddering around his digits. The gorgeous creature ground against Derek's stocking-clad thigh and then began to jerk frantically. Derek stared in awe as Stiles' lips fell open, his eyelids fluttered, and a soft whimper graced Derek's ears. Stiles' body was tense in his arms, completion drawn out as he found it fast. Derek didn't think it was skill that brought him off, but the thrill of the moment.

_How the hell do I walk away from this?_

“Stiles!” A woman's voice hissed.

Stiles' head jerked sideways sharp enough to crack and he gaped at the woman in the doorway who was staring at him in horror.

“Heather, what the _fuck?_ ” Stiles hissed.

“There are _people in the building_!” She snarled, “They can _hear you two!_ And here you are with a sex worker!”

“I am _not!”_ Derek argued, flustered and for a moment forgetting he was dressed like one.

“Yeah, he's not. It is he, right?” Stiles asked, “I can work with she or they.”

“He,” Derek replied automatically.

“Splendid. Coffee? Tomorrow?” Stiles asked, “Same time?”

“Yeah,” Derek nodded like a floppy doll and Stiles hurried to the employee bathroom, leaving him to get himself together and do the walk of shame out of the shop with his head held high and Stiles' slick on his fingers.

He sucked on them shamelessly when he got into his car.

CHAPTER

Stiles somehow managed to _not_ lose his job, in no small part because he bribed Heather and Isaac to keep their mouths shut (so much for skipping the food bank that month). If no one called the boss he'd be fine, but Stiles was well liked for a mouthy, amoral omega so he didn't think it would be a problem.

“It's my day off,” Stiles told McFuckmy happily when he entered the building and gave Stiles a surprised look, “I'd rather not be at work but this place has the best fraps.”

“Fraps?” Derek asked.

Stiles was wearing jeans and comic book t-shirt, which Derek clearly approved of. Yeah, they could both crossdress. Although to be fair, most omegas wore jeans now a days, but Stiles' work uniform had omegas in ankle-length skirts like out of a black and white movie. Derek's surprise was understandable in that context. Derek himself was wearing jeans and a Henley this time, but Stiles was still hot as hell for him. He looked so snuggly. They needed a fireplace and a good book. Stat.

“Sorry, slang. I think you're older than me, right? It means frappuccino,” Stiles supplied.

“Still not following you.”

“Icy caffeinated beverage?”

“You mean iced coffee?” Hotness asked in a bored tone.

Stiles sputtered, “Oh my GOAT! I'm ordering for us.”

Stiles ordered the newest drink on the menu, ignoring Heather's flirting, while Hotness McFuckme stared at Stiles' neck where it peaked out from beneath his thick collar. He wanted the guy to lick it. Repeatedly.

“Oh my gods and goddesses,” Stiles moaned as he sipped what admittedly looked like a blended up sorority poster, “Seriously, Heather, you're a goddess on that machine. Aphrodite couldn't make a more satisfying drink. I think I need to change my lube pad. I'm that gone on this thing. What did you call it?”

“There's a customer right behind you,” The girl from the cafe scolded.

“That is a _terrible_ name,” Stiles told her, then turned around and froze with eyes wide in horror at the sight of a grandmotherly woman known to be a pain in the ass, “Oh, uh, hi Mrs. Jenkins. This is my date, Thor! I'm off duty!!”

“Wrong country,” Derek argued, stinking of jealousy. Stiles knew he'd been flirting a bit, but from the way Hotness was glaring at the straw in his drink Stiles didn't think his problem was with Heather. Looked like he wanted a repeat of that blow job.

“What?” Stiles was confused.

“Aphrodite was a Greek goddess. Thor is a Norse god. Different country. You could go with Odysseus?”

Stiles tugged him towards a table. McFuckme was going along with it but avoiding looking at the second drink in Stiles' hands.

“Cheated on his mate but expected her to be faithful for a solid decade. That's the choice you're going with?” Stiles raised an eyebrow as they sat down on opposite sides of the table.

“I was thinking... human and well known so... I mean, it seems a little pompous to call myself a god or... Uh. Achilles?”

Stiles winked at him and licked whipped cream off of his upper lip, “So where's _your_ weak spot.”

“Pretty sure I'm staring at it,” Hotness grumbled angrily, making Stiles' face burn.

“Oh my gosh, you're so adorable when you're flustered. Our babies are going to be _gorgeous,_ ” Stiles joked, and the alpha gave him a weak and disoriented smile. “Here, I bought you one of these legendary drinks to break the ice. We should probably talk before I try to jump your bones again.”

The alpha's eyes went blank and his jaw slightly slack. Stiles waved his hands in front of his face in concern.

“Uhhhh...” Stiles waved his hand in front of Hottness' face, “Maybe give him a double shot of espresso next time, m'kay Heather?”

Instead of replying, the guy scrambled to grab both the drink Stiles was referencing and his hand. He sipped it while gripping Stiles' digits and shifting to the side to block Stiles' view of Heather. It was adorable and almost made Stiles miss the look of disgust on the poor guy's face as he swallowed the drink down. He might have turned a bit green.

Meanwhile, Heather kept giving them dirty looks from behind the counter and twice hinted that Stiles had other prospects in low whispers that his date couldn't be missing. In response the clearly jealous alpha excused himself briefly, called out of work from just outside the door, and returned to announce that he could spend the _whole day with Stiles._

He looked so proud, despite glancing at the drink in front of him with dread, and Stiles was... well, he was an _awful_ human being. He was hot for this guy, but the guy had started out trying to chase him off (it hadn't worked) and Stiles figured two could play that game.

“Great!” Stiles chirped, “We should have scones with this drink. It would pair great with white chocolate.”

“Uh... maybe a sandwich?” Hotty suggested, looking a bit frantic.

“My treat,” Stiles winked, “Considering last time you gave _me_ the treat.”

Stiles let out a fake growl and clawed the air, winked, and headed to the counter to grab the sweetest scones they had and bought two cake pops just because they matched the drink. He returned and pushed one of each towards the alpha and then popped the cake pop in his mouth to suck on the soft tip. It melted in his mouth and he closed his eyes to enjoy the sweat taste, letting the pink-white frosting linger on his lips as it came away. He made sure his teeth were clean before smiling happily at Hotness with sticky lips.

McFuckme was gone again, gaping at him with his eyes glazed over. Stiles had _never_ had a beta or another omega hot for him like this and it was going to his head quite a bit. The guy was adorable and Stiles should go easy on him. He obviously had some baggage if he was this turned on by Stiles, recognized him as a mate, but hadtried to get a rejection out of him.

Then he opened his damn mouth again and all of Stiles' pity went out the window.

“Uh, yeah,” Hotness gave his head a shake, “Just don't get too used to it. Once we're mated you won't have money to throw around.”

“Why's that?” Stiles asked, voice going cold in warning.

“Well, no omega of mine is going to work,” He scoffed, wincing at his own words, “It wouldn't look good at the country club. You'll get a stipend, of course, but I'd do all the buying because-”

“You haven't tried your scone!” Stiles cooed, pushing it towards him again.

Hotness paused, swallowed hard, then picked it up and took a slow bite. Stiles couldn't keep the fangs out of his smile, but the alpha obviously felt guilty for his words because he just met Stiles' eyes with a shamefaced look and when Stiles nodded to the drink he picked it up and took a sip. Another nod. Another sip. Another bite. Another sip. He was practically rushing it, looking more distressed by the second.

The drink was just as pink and foamy coming up as it had been going down.

“Oh, poor baby,” Stiles cooed, providing a humiliated Derek with a pile of napkins, “Guess it's a good thing you called out of work, huh? Well, best go home and clean yourself up. We'll talk more about how making sexist comments causes you horrible stomach distress at our next date, okay?”

Hotness nodded, eyes lowered in shame, and trudged towards the door in clear defeat. When he passed the register he... gave Isaac the middle finger? Isaac winced and then saw Stiles' narrowed eyes and looked absolutely panicked. Stiles was up out of his seat and headed for them immediately. Isaac, to his credit, only backed up one step.

“How you doing up here, Isaac?” Stiles chirped happily.

“Haven't made anyone puke, so that's good.” Isaac griped.

“Yeah, the poor guy!” Stiles laughed, then sobered a bit, “I hope he's okay. He seems sort of... terrified of me. I'm not used to that. I mean, look at me! 147 lbs of pale skin and fragile bone, sarcasm is my only defense!”

“He doesn't seem like a guy who talks a lot, so maybe that's extra disarming,” Isaac said after a considering look.

“Maybe,” Stiles shrugged, “Either way, I feel bad about his stomach. Maybe he'll get over his crush and stay away now. My dad's always saying mates doesn't mean soulmates and we don't seem super compatible. I mean, he's kinda rude. And sexist. And you _know_ how I hate sexism. Like, _despise_ it. Pretty sure I've mentioned that to you, come to think of it. Often.”

“He... He might have gone through a lot of stuff, you don't know!” Isaac sputtered.

Stiles cocked his head to one side, “Wait, do you know him?”

Isaac rolled his eyes, but didn't answer. A sure sign of guilt.

“You do!!” Stiles exclaimed, “Why didn't you say anything? I could have used his name instead of calling him Thor today! What is his name? And why'd you tell him to say those awful things?!”

“Derek, and because he doesn't _want_ you!” Isaac spat out, “I mean, geez! Get a clue! He was trying to get a rejection out of you while sparing your stupid feelings!”

“Pretty sure he wants me, Zack,” Stiles rolled his eyes, “He had a whole lot of evidence in his pants yesterday. And my mouth. And down my shirt.”

“Lust isn't the same thing as wanting to mate someone,” Isaac scoffed, “Given the chance I'd fuck your cute ass too, but I'm not stupid enough to tie myself down to someone as annoying and stuck up as you are! Like you said: you're a _slut._ Don't be shocked when you're treated like one!”

Stiles felt that telltale jolt of hurt hit him. It had been years since he'd let someone's barbs hit him, but this was different. Derek was his _mate_ , and even if they weren't right for each other (honestly, Stiles wasn't sure, he hadn't yet seen the _real_ Derek) Stiles couldn't fathom any potential mate of his outright _disliking him._ It made _Stiles'_ feel a bit queasy.

“Just reject him,” Isaac pleaded, “All he does when we go home is rant about how he can't get your scent out of his nose and doesn't want to end up married to a weirdo!”

Stiles' stomach plummeted and he nodded, too hurt to reply out loud. He turned and hurried to the door, leaving before Isaac could see his tears. They _lived together._ No wonder Isaac outright hated him so much. He and Derek were a thing and Isaac had had to listen to them...

Stiles had been mocked for his lazy eye all his life. Imagine a _werewolf_ who needed _glasses!_ He was labeled flawed from childhood. He had lost count of how often he had been told eyes were the window to the soul, but Stiles was too cock-eyed to see or be seen. He'd basically accepted that he'd never find a mate and then Derek had shown up and part of Stiles had decided he'd _make_ it work, even if he'd also been telling himself it was just too damn good to be true. Well, he had been right on one count. Stiles had ended up how Scott had told him he would when Stiles had first started sleeping around: a homewrecker. No wonder he was friendless, loveless, and spending all his life looking after his father as if the man were his cub.

“What the hell am I doing?” Stiles sniffled, wiping away his tears as he slammed his jeep door and started him up, “He's not my _mate_. He's just some guy who smelled good. I knew I'd never end up hitched. Why the hell am I letting him turn me around like this?”

Stiles drove home in a hurry, got out, found the nearest bag of crisps and a tub of ice cream, and planted himself in front of his Netflix account to bury his emotions in carbs, sugar, and crappy shows.

CHAPTER

Derek showered twice, but not because he was covered in frosted puke. He was disgusted by himself. If his sure had heard him utter those words she'd have wept in shame and hated herself for raising him. His siblings would have piled up on him and beaten him senseless. He was the only alpha besides his sire, Talia, in a family of strong-willed omegas. His own carrier had been a military omega, serving in the highest levels of the land and retiring to work in the FBI because that was his idea of _relaxing._ He built entire boats for fun. Big ones.

Irrational with shame, Derek sent an apology text to every one of them, including his alpha sire because she'd _absolutely_ taught him better. He hadn't thought that one through, because his phone was instantly ringing.

“Derek? Are you alright? What are you talking about? What did I teach you better? Where are you?” Talia was terrified for him, and it occurred to Derek that the text sounded like an apology before he did something drastic.

“I'm home, I'm fine, I just... I screwed up, mom,” Derek sat on his bed in a towel, and started crying like a toddler.

“Derek, shhh, sweetheart,” Talia crooned, “Darling, it will be okay. Mommy will make it better. Who do I have to sue, incapacitate, or kill?”

Derek coughed out a laugh, “I met... I met my mate.”

“You.. oh!” She sounded so torn and Derek wasn't surprised. With his track record it probably wasn't good.

“Don't worry,” Derek sobbed again, “He won't be setting anything on fire. He hates me. I made damn sure of that!”

“Derek, honey,” Talia sighed softly, “Tell me everything.”

He talked to her nearly an hour before falling asleep on the phone, just waxing on about the young man's moles and quick wit. He woke up when Isaac came home from work.

“Hello! Derek! You forgot to pick me up! Are you still puking up pink frappuccino?! That asshole! Why'd you let him wind you up?” Isaac burst into Derek's room and he sat up, rubbing at the dried salt on his face. Isaac's amusement ended and he gave Derek a confused look, “What's wrong?”

Derek couldn't answer without crying again and he didn't feel like making a fool of himself in front of his young packmate. He just shook his head and gestured to his state of undress, which made Isaac shrug and shut the door again. Derek washed his face, dressed, and headed out into the main room with his head held high. He made himself an espresso while Isaac sat nervously on the sofa.

“Are you mad at me?” Isaac asked anxiously.

“No, of course not,” Derek replied, voice as soothing as he could manage, “You haven't done anything wrong.”

“You're upset and I don't know why,” Isaac whispered, voice filled with fear.

“I won't hurt you, Isaac,” Derek moved towards him slowly and sat down on the furthest space on the sofa, not touching him, “Even if I _was_ angry with you, I'd never hurt you.”

“I know,” Isaac uttered.

He did, but knowing something and believing it were two different things. Isaac had scars on top of scars, and he was so fragile sometimes that Derek feared he would shatter apart. Yet he was fiercely protective of Derek and Erica and wanted nothing more than to keep them both safe.

“I'm going to be upset for a while,” Derek told him gently, “You can stay with my sister Cora if you need to get away from me for a while. Just until I'm okay again.”

“Why are you upset?”

“Because I'm scared,” Derek admitted, leaning back on the sofa and rubbing his eyes, “I want him desperately, but I can't seem to... I'm scared.”

“Of that scrawny little-”

“No, not of him,” Derek breathed out, “Of myself.”

“You?”

“You've only known me after I learned a few very _painful_ lessons. All that shit I spouted off at him? I used to believe it. Despite growing up with evidence it wasn't true. I don't know why I had such idiotic ideas in my head. My father- my carrier- he always worked. My omega siblings weren't weak in any way shape or form. I guess I wanted to feel bigger than them, and they were so good at everything they did. I wasn't good at anything. I barely made it through highschool despite having a high IQ. Didn't graduate college, but I plan to try again. I was this angry asshole who treated everyone like shit and fucked my way through two sororities before people sat me down and called me on my shit. Fake ego, my mom called it. Overcompensating because my siblings and parents were overachievers and I wasn't. She said there was nothing wrong with being average, but treating people like they were less than me was going to stop. Immediately. Then she got me on track to get a vocation instead. She said some people are too smart for their own good and just don't test well.”

“You're smart,” Isaac huffed, indignant.

“Yeah, I know I am, I just can't manage to apply it, and I tend to offend everyone I talk to. Stiles, he's _brilliant._ You can hear it in the way he talks. The way his eyes are always figuring out the world around him. I can't compete with that.”

“I don't think you're meant to compete with your mate,” Isaac replied softly.

Derek snorted, “That's what my mom said. You know, you should go to college, Isaac. You've got a lot to offer the world.”

Isaac gave Derek a panicked look and then jerked out of his seat and bolted up the steps, slamming his bedroom door. Derek turned to stare after him in confusion, not sure what had frightened him this time. He tried to knock on his door and talk to him, but it remained locked and eventually he left him alone.

CHAPTER

Isaac still had the money Stiles had bribed him with to avoid being tattled on for having sex with Derek in the back room. He had thought it was funny to accept the bribe. He'd had no intention of telling anyone anything, and the customers who had overheard had gotten all hot and bothered and left tittering to each other in amusement. They were probably going to fantasize about it for _years,_ not report them. Heather took it to be spiteful because she wanted Stiles for herself.

Isaac went to her first, knowing full well that he'd never get to buy a coffee from her again. He leaned across the counter when she smiled at him in her friendly way and hissed out a warning.

“Stop flirting with Stiles or I'll report you for sexual harassment.”

“What? I-!”

“Don't. Do. It. Again.”

Isaac walked away quickly and headed for the break room, but Stiles wasn't there. He was always early so Isaac double checked the schedule. Derek would be there at any moment and he had _so_ little time to return the money, tell Stiles he'd been wrong, and get him to give Derek a second chance.

Isaac headed back out the employee entrance and around to the side lot, hoping to catch Stiles as he walked from his usual parking space. Stiles' jeep was there, but so was _Derek's car._ Worried, Isaac headed for it at a fast clip, but they weren't in either car. Isaac turned in a circle, casting about for them, and heard their voices from around the other side of the line of buildings _at the front door._ It was past opening time. Heather would have opened the door since he'd fucked off. Isaac practically ran around to the front of the building, but he heard the worst before he got to them.

“Hey, I'm sorry about yesterday,” Stiles' voice sounded so soft, so sad, but he was plowing ahead before Isaac could get there, “You didn't deserve me being a dick to you.”

“It's fine,” Derek replied, “I said some pretty awful stuff. I don't think that way, I hope you know that. I was just-”

“I know what you were doing, and it's fine. I get it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, it's fine. I know what I am, and you know what? I'm okay with me. I love myself the way I am.”

“That's great,” Derek replied, “You should.”

“Well, I do,” Stiles replied sharply.

“Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Fuck,” Isaac swore, scanning his badge at the employee entrance multiple times until the damn thing finally worked. He bolted through the employee lounge and towards the front door.

“I'm glad. You're pretty amazing.”

“Yeah, and if you'd played your cards better you could have found out how good more than my mouth was.”

“I... wait,” Derek uttered, realizing something was wrong.

“STILES!” Isaac shouted, pulling the front door open and grabbing at his arm, “Can I talk to you?!”

“Uh, let's go with no,” Stiles jerked his arm free, “I'm all good on the insult front, thanks.”

“No, I _really_ need to talk to you!” Isaac tried to drag him through the front door but his face exploded with pain.

“Did you just mace him?!” Derek shouted, grabbing onto Isaac's arm as the beta screamed and rubbed at his face.

“Oh my goddess, it burns and is numb at the same time! How is that possible?!”

“Aconite does that,” Stiles replied in a bland tone.

“What the hell, Stiles?!” Derek shouted at him.

“You know what?” Stiles snarled, “I was _going_ to reject you, but seeing as how you've been trying- poorly, I might add- to manipulate me and using your boyfriend to gather intell, I've changed my mind.”

“My what now?!” Derek asked.

“You heard me. I'm not going to do it.”

“So... you'll give me another chance?” Derek asked hopefully.

“Don't mind me, just in agony here,” Isaac fumbled with the door, “You two talk this out while I go wash my face in the bathroom.”

“Nooo, I won't be giving you another _chance,”_ Stiles scoffed, “I'm going to leave you hanging. Forever.”

“You... what?”

“Yeah, I'm going to keep on wanting you for the rest of my life, so now you get to do the same thing.”

CHAPTER

“But...” Derek's eyes widened in horror, “You won't give me another chance?”

“Wait,” Isaac's face was red and swollen and he was blinking at them both in horror, “No, no, no, it wasn't Derek's fault! What I said! It wasn't his words! I swear!”

  
“No second chance,” Stiles stated, then peered at him curiously, “Was that enough to get my smell out of your nose?”

Derek sniffed and then shook his head, “No, you still smell like my mate.”

“You, too,” Stiles grinned viciously, “Good.”

“I don't understand. If you won't give me another chance and you won't reject me...” Derek stammered, Isaac forgotten for the moment.

“Yeeeees,” Stiles waved a hand, “Work it out, big guy.”

“Then I'll keep craving you. For the rest of my life.”

Stiles shrugged, “Eh, probably not, but I applaud your theatrics. If you stay away your body will move on from the initial chemical half-bond. If you don't then yeah. You'll crave me forever.”

“I can't stay away,” Derek pointed out uselessly, “You have to reject me.”

“Why?” Stiles scoffed, “Why should I give you an out? You're the one who doesn't want _me._ So say it. _You_ reject _me.”_

“No, there's been a misunderstanding. I _do_ want you,” Derek insisted.

“He does,” Isaac pleaded, coughing miserably, “I was wrong. He does want you!”

“Bitch, please!” Stiles scoffed, “You've been trying to get me to toss you aside from day one! Well, listen up, both of you. Stiles Stilinski does not brush off easily. I'm not _dandruff_. I'm not going anywhere and you two had better get your shit together and start acting like adults instead of angsty teenagers in a teen melodrama show! Okay, Achilles, if you don't want me, say the words. Well? Say it. I'm a big boy, I can take it.”

Derek scowled angrily because he'd already said he _did_ want him, but the crazy ass wasn't listening!

“You have to reject me,” Derek insisted, unwilling to take that step.

“Nope,” Stiles popped the word.

“If you don't I'll keep craving your scent.”

“Oh, poor baby, I can't imagine what it's like to have the scent of another mess with your biology. Oh, wait, that's omega existence in a nutshell,” Stiles snarked, “Call me when you have to change a pad every time an alpha customer comes in the store!”

“Then I'll keep coming back,” Derek warned, giving him an angry scowl.

“Good,” Stiles' smile had more fangs than teeth, “And every time you do I'll have a Legendary Frappucino waiting for you. Extra whipped cream.”

CHAPTER

“I am so confused,” Isaac ranted while a nurse in the ER washed the aconite from his eyes, “First you don't want him. Then you do. Then you _tell him to reject you._ Now you're mad that he won't?! What the hell, Derek?!”  
  


“What did you say to him to get him to mace you?”

“I grabbed his arm. That's why he maced me.”

“No, I get the impression you said something.”

“Why?”

“Because he _said_ you said something,” Derek pointed out dryly.

“Fine,” Isaac fumed, “I may have told Stiles that he was an unwanted slut who- _OW!”_

“Oh, honey,” The nurse fussed, “I really need you to be completely still. Don't want to poke an eye out.”

“Right,” Isaac grumped.

“You called him a slut?” Derek was barely keeping the rage out of his voice. This was Isaac. He couldn't just go off on him.

“You were freaking out about being mated to him, saying you wanted him gone! I was trying to help! I had no idea you were secretly in love with him and being... what did he call us? Angsty, melodramatic teenagers?!”  
  


The nurse snorted and stepped back, “Sounds like Stiles to me.”

“You know him?” Derek stood up fast.

“All his life,” She replied, “He and my son used to be best friends until my son put his foot in his mouth right before leaving for college. They haven't spoken since, but Stiles still brings me food from time to time like a total sweetheart. I mean, a slutty asshole, yes, but also a sweetheart.”

“Can you help me?” Derek pleaded, “He thinks he can just... leave us both _wanting.”_

“Your sex life is _not_ my problem, honey,” She gave him a disgusted look.

“I don't mean sex!” Derek insisted, “He's my _mate.”_

The woman gave him a careful look, “Stiles hasn't mentioned a mate.”

“He was going to reject me, but now he's just leaving us both stagnant!”

Melissa, according to her name tag, sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, “That sounds like Stiles, too. He's terrified of change, and is perfectly happy to suffer.”

“So how do I convince him I'm _not_ terrifying?” Derek ground his teeth in frustration.

“Yeah, I'm not sure that's possible,” She replied, giving Derek a nervous look, “You look like a murderer.”

Derek growled angrily, rubbing his hands down his face, “How did this go so wrong?! From the moment I laid eyes on him I couldn't get a logical sentence out!”

“You're not exactly loquacious to begin with,” Isaac pointed out with a chuckle.

“I just want him to look at m the way he looked at that _awful drink!”_ Derek fumed.

Isaac chuckled, “That drink made you puke.”

Derek poked him in the chest, “I drank it to make him happy, and I'd drink it _every day_ to keep him happy.”

“So... do that,” Melissa interrupted them.

Derek and Isaac gave her a baffled look.

“Look,” Melissa sighed, “Stiles has trust issues. His mother died when he was little, his dad never got over it and was mentally absent for years, and his best friend just broke his heart a few months ago. Even _I_ work too much to be there for him properly, and I could never be a mother figure to him while I was raising my own boy in a different household. You screwed up, but him refusing to reject you _is_ a second chance. He doesn't want to let you go because he wants you to prove yourself to him. Go earn it. Be reliable. He'll either come around or tell you to fuck off and reject you properly. It's got to be better than being in limbo.”

Melissa left them and Derek stood there a moment in deep thought before letting Isaac drag him out of the building by his arm. He stayed silent the whole night, and in the morning he asked his job to reduce his hours. He kept working full time for two weeks, making plans in the evenings, and let his boss know that he'd like to go full time again at some point when he got his life together. Derek had been a good worker. His boss didn't know why he'd gone off lately and he didn't ask. He just nodded and clapped his hand on Derek's shoulder. Derek took that as a maybe.

Derek's sire already knew to start sending him an allowance again, but Derek planned to use it sparingly. He didn't want to stalk Stiles, after all, just show him he could be a better man.

CHAPTER

Stiles scoffed at the first delivery of flowers and candy. It wasn't exactly original, after all, but it did feel kind of nice. Like an apology. Which he was owed. So he kept them and let himself feel a little bit desired. What he really wanted was a good lay, but as long as he was letting their partially formed bond sit between them Stiles was going to be less interested in other wolfs besides Derek. He could _make_ himself go out and get laid, but it wasn't as fun that way. They came with a card: _Isaac is in no way my partner. Derek Hale_

Stiles wasn't sure how long this was going to go on, but on day two when he came in to a free Legendary Frappuccino he figured it might be a long, long time.

“He prepaid you for _a year,_ Stiles,” Heather told him, looking impressed, “Told me to charge him for 365 of the most expensive drinks on the menu so you could have whatever you wanted.”

“Joke's on him,” Stiles sipped his drink, “That will only last me 91 days and half a morning. He's going to have to re-up me quarterly.”

“You still going to lead this guy on?” Heather asked.

“I'm not leading him on,” Stiles fussed with the straw, “He really _is_ my mate. He blew it, is all. It's his fault, so he should have to say the words. I shouldn't have to do that.”

“He's _actually_ your mate?” Heather asked, eyes wide, “You're not just saying that?”

“Yeah,” Stiles blinked rapidly to stop himself from tearing up _again, “_ The guy smells like freshly baked apples and fall leaves.”

“That's so corny,” Heather tried not to laugh, “Come on, Stiles, you have to know that's corny, right? Laugh about it. It will make you feel better.”

“I would, but... my mom used to make baked apples every fall for Mabon. I haven't had them in years.”

“Oh, fuck, Stiles,” Heather was the one blinking fast now, “My _mascara_.”

“Yeah, it's really bad. You should probably, like, get some tips from a drag queen or something,” Stiles sniffled.

They both laughed awkwardly and Stiles hurried away before he actually started crying like a baby.

CHAPTER

Derek knocked on Sheriff Stilinski's door after being let through the main area by one of the sergeants. The man motioned him in and Derek tried not to instantly sweat through his clothing. He'd had Erica do some googling to research Stiles and found his father.

“Evening, Sheriff, you probably don't remember me, but-”

“DUI, three years ago. Multiple noise complaints at your college. One girl who tried to report you for breaking her heart.”

“You weren't serving in my college town,” Derek stated.

“One guy, too,” The sheriff stated, eyes narrowing, “ _My guy._ The only family I have left.”

“I can't break something I've never even been _near,”_ Derek grouched, “I want to be with him. He wants to play games.”

“One thing you need to know about my son: he's very competitive. You start a game with him, he's going to _finish it.”_

“I didn't mean to start a game,” Derek said, digging deep for the honesty he needed to get across, “I was scared.”

“You tell him that?”

“Not... not yet. I'm giving him some space.”

“Mm,” Sheriff Stilinski stood up and walked around his desk to stand in front of Derek, “I'm not giving you any kind of blessing, if that's what you're here for. I won't stop you unless I get wind that you're pushing it. You don't stalk him. You get his _consent._ Got that?”

“I'd never touch him without-”

“His _consent_ to _court_ him. That is what you're doing, isn't it?”

Derek nodded mutely.

“Good. You get that you don't need anything from me, and you'd better bet your ass I won't be coddling you, so next time I catch you driving drunk I'll make sure he never sees you again. Get out.”

Derek bolted like a scared teen.

CHAPTER

The gifts felt nice, but they were also pretty cliché and therefore not well thought out. That made sense though, because Derek didn't really _know_ him. Stiles was half tempted to reject him, but he also didn't want him to go away. He just wished that the scent factor was removed. Every time Stiles got a gift he wondered if Derek would be making _any_ kind of effort if Stiles didn't smell yummy to him. So Stiles decided to just ask. Since Derek had been pointedly dropping off the gifts when Stiles _wasn't_ around, and Stiles didn't have his phone number, the omega was stuck with the annoying task of breaking into his dad's laptop to do a background check on him.

Apparently Derek had been quite the party animal in school, including a DUI. Stiles wasn't thrilled about that. Drunk drivers tended to kill _other_ people. Still, youth and all that. Stiles had done his fair share of shitty and illegal things. If he _did_ date the guy, it would be after talking about that.

Address in hand, Stiles showed up at the guy's apartment one day right around dinner hour because that seemed a reasonable time to catch someone at home. He knocked and Isaac opened the door, stared at him, and then sighed heavily.

“He's out buying you something.”

“Okay,” Stiles replied, not really sure what to do until he got back, “How long do you think he'll be? Not to be annoying, it's just I have class in the morning.”

“Yeah, probably not much longer. If you promise not to mace me you can come in.”

“Promise,” Stiles replied, “But I'm not apologizing. You shouldn't grab people without their consent, and you definitely shouldn't do it after calling them a slut and talking about their bodies like they're objects.”

“Yeah,” Isaac grimaced, “I should definitely apologize for that.”

“Yes, you should.”

“I'm sorry,” Isaac stated as he gestured to the couch, “I didn't even mean it. I mean, you are cute, but I'm not into you like that and I don't think you're an object. I don't even use the word slut like that. I latched on to something you said and used it against you.”

Stiles paused halfway to sitting down, “You're in therapy.”

“Uh... yeah.”

“Okay,” Stiles sat down and pulled out his phone to do something besides stare awkwardly at Isaac.

ds

Isaac put a bowl of pretzels down on the table in front of the couch and then fucked off. Stiles was fine with that, and he munched for a bit. He got himself a glass of water and found a coaster, but was so into his phone for a bit that he forgot where he was. He'd been reading a fanfiction online and the plot was spot on.

Stiles hadn't even noticed Derek was returning until he was just outside the door and his scent hit Stiles like a tidal wave. It had only been a few days since they'd last been near each other, but damn he smelled good. Stiles was instantly wet, his body aching a bit as it got ready for sex what with him being _in_ the alpha's territory and all. Stiles hadn't really considered what being there in his home would do to him, or to Derek for that matter. When the door slid open Derek was staring at him with burning red eyes. Stiles let out a stuttering breath and decided not to stand. It would just waft his horny scent around even more.

“Hi,” Stiles' voice sounded breathy, “Sorry for dropping by, but I didn't have your number.”

“Don't remember giving you my address, either.”

It occurred to Stiles that Derek's red eyes might not be all lust, but a sniff in the air showed a muddled mixture of emotions. Including fear?

“Yeah, I may have creepily run a search on you, but I swear I'm not here for anything insane.”

“That's what my last girlfriend said. She set my car on fire.”

“Sweet Baby Ray,” Stiles uttered, “I'm _not_ going to do that! My dad's the sheriff!”

“Yeah, that only convinces me that you could hide a body easily,” Derek walked across the room and put his bags on the counter.

“I'm really sorry,” Stiles sighed, “This was clearly a really bad idea. I'll leave.”

“I don't want you to leave,” Derek said quickly, “I'm just... I spoke to your dad today. I wanted to ask for his blessing to court you. Make it official. Maybe ask for advice. His advice was for me to get _your_ permission, so I was going to ask you that tomorrow afternoon. Maybe over a Legendary Frappuccino.”

“You forcing yourself to drink one of those until you puked was endearing once, let's not go there again,” Stiles laughed lightly, “But, um, before I go giving you permission there's a reason I came over and it's sort of along those lines.”

“Okay?” Derek leaned against his fridge and folded his arms, stance fully closed off.

Stiles thought about asking him to sit beside him and then thought better of it. For one, the guys eyes were still burning a hole in his soul. Stiles cleared his throat a few times and then sipped his water before trying again.

“Okay, so... first off, thank you for the flowers and drinks. It was really sweet, but it sort of highlighted the fact that we don't know each other well. Your soul insight into me is coffee: which admittedly is a huge chunk of my life, but still. The second you did that and the cliché flowers you had to go looking for help. I think that speaks for itself to a certain extent. Our draw to each other is purely physical, and you started out by playing games with me. That's not okay, and it makes me want to run the other way.”

“I know,” Derek replied, “I'm sorry. I was... I was scared.”

“Of me setting your car on fire?”

“Or attacking me. Or my packmates. Or learning that I used to be a grade A asshole and probably still am from time to time when I don't watch myself. My mom says I've changed, and she's brutally honest, so I think I have, but I know I didn't deserve you not that long ago. That's a scary thing to have to face.”

“It sounds like you've had some scary stuff happen to you,” Stiles pushed, but Derek just nodded and kept silent, “So... my thought was that I worry we're only doing this- both of us- because we both smell so good to each other. Like, if you saw me in the shop and I smelled like a beta or even just a regular omega, would you have pursued me?”

“No,” Derek admitted, then grimace and held up a hand before Stiles could reaction, “Don't... I didn't mean it like that. Damn it, I'm not good at this. I stopped dating. Full stop. I don't date anymore because I only _ever_ attract horrible people.”

Realization dawned, “So when you tried to shock a rejection out of me it was because you were afraid I'd manipulate and abuse you. Holy shit, you are seriously in need of therapy.”

Derek rolled his eyes hard, “I tried therapy for a while. Then I self treated. I've been doing okay.”

“Except for the part where you think you don't deserve your mate and try to chase him off.”

Derek only shrugged, but at least his eyes had stopped flaring.

“Well,” Stiles looked down, “As for me, I would have definitely hit on you even if you hadn't smelled like a mate. I _wouldn't_ have sucked your dick in the back room. I'm not gonna lie, you in a dress was hot as hell, but I thought it was sincere at first and I was all like 'I'm gonna spend the rest of my life with this person', because you smelled like my mate, you know?”

“I want that,” Derek spoke softly, “I don't want to be alone anymore.”

Stiles gave him a sad look, “No, but you went from 'no one ever again' to 'marriage' and I can't help but think that that's another trauma response. Besides, when I realized after I stopped being a hornball that your actions and words weren't adding up I felt _awful._ Like, I've always jokingly called myself a slut, but that time I felt the sting. I was so upset at myself, figuring I'd just given a guy who was reluctant to be with me extra reasons to walk away or use me and dump me.”

“You didn't,” Derek insisted, “I never thought less of you, no matter what Isaac said. I thought you were _amazing._ It made me want to keep you. You were so genuine and real. You just reacted and were accepting and... I've never met someone like you before.”

“So what made you go from 'no way' to 'yes please' was me being myself?” Stiles asked in surprise.

Derek cocked his head to one side and Stiles waited with baited breath as the guy really thought about it. He wasn't just giving a knee-jerk answer or telling Stiles what he thought he wanted to hear. He was actually examining himself and looking for the truth.

  
“Yeah,” Derek gave him a slightly surprised look, “Yeah, it was you acting like yourself. You're funny. I like that you do most of the talking, because I don't do well in conversation. I do _not_ like sweet things. I drink my coffee with cream only.”

“Heathen,” Stiles whispered dramatically, and Derek smiled softly at his joke, “Holy shit, you have bunny teeth!”

Derek's smile vanished and the drastic eye-roll returned.

“So what now?” Stiles asked, “I'm into you, but despite the baring of souls I don't really know you. I'm still worried you're doing this because of my scent.”

Derek nodded but didn't elaborate, leaving Stiles to chew on his bottom lip in consideration.

“My dad has always told me not to let my instincts rule me,” Stiles told him, “And your first instinct was to stop them from doing so. Instinct- and with it the biology that causes it- was an excuse used over and again for centuries to keep omegas down. We're too hormonal. We're too fragile. We need to be making babies. We'll get raped if we leave the house. It took _thousands of years_ for us to get equality, and even now there are people who still don't think we're equals and keep bringing it up in courts. I can't help but feel like this whole mate-scent thing is in the same boat. I soft of... I sort of resent it. I'd rather have hit on you and been shot down or gotten you on my own awkward merits. Like, I wish the biggest thing between us was my lazy eye, you know?”

Derek frowned, “It's just a lazy eye. It's not a big deal.”

“ _I_ know that, but I've been dumped for it in the past.”

“You can't even tell.”

“Not right now, no. It's more obvious when I'm tired, which is half of my caffeine addiction. My own best friend gave me shit about it. He wanted me to get this surgery, but my mom died from complications of mistletoe poisoning from anesthesia when she got her tubes tied and we had a huge fight about it. I know he didn't mean to be callous, but we've stopped talking and- anyway. Point is, I'd rather that were all we were being weird over, you know?”

“So now what?”

“Well...” Stiles gave him an uncomfortable look, “Don't take this the wrong way, but if I reject you than we can both go forward with a clear head.”

Derek frowned, “But I love your scent. I don't want to lose it. Ever.”

“I know, I know, trust me, I'm super attached to yours, too, but I did some research and we _could_ get it back if we chose to stay together.”

Derek raised his eyebrows and Stiles plunged ahead.

“If- and I do mean _if-_ we date without that scent in each other's noses after a rejection and we fall in love on our own I would... I'd be willing to let you claim me.”

The red eyes were back and Derek looked like he was actually hyperventilating. He pushed off the counter and fled to the window, throwing it open and sticking his head out.

“Holy shit, I broke him,” Stiles realized in horror.

“Minute! Give me a minute!”

“Yeah, but, like, don't jump, okay?!”

Derek came back in, running his hand down his face, “Okay. I... I think that would be a good idea.”

“You do?” Stiles asked, fully relieved, “You understand that if you claim me, it's forever, right? It will fuck me up if you leave me.”

“There's medications, but I guess you know that,” Derek nodded, “It would make me feel so much safer with you if you let me claim you. So thank you for considering that, but what about you? You hate your instincts. This is the ultimate reduction of freedom for omegas. You'd be mine forever.”

Stiles glanced down at his hands and then back up, “It would be forever anyway. I would never allow you to claim me if I weren't sure I wanted to be with you forever. I don't do things by halves. I don't want a husband. I want a _mate._ It's why I've never had someone serious before now. I've never even dated alphas. I couldn't. I want what my parents had. As much as it destroyed my dad when she died, he never regretted it. I can't help but hold that relationship up on a pedestal and I want the same thing. So, yeah. I'm making you a promise that if it works you can claim me, but just so you know? It's got a snowball's chance in hell because I'm looking for something I probably won't ever find. So... yeah. Rejecting you is probably the smartest thing, because otherwise I'm _really_ going to start leading you on.”

Derek nodded his understanding, looking a bit sad. Stiles understood. It was sinking in for both of them just how much this _wouldn't_ work. Still, it wasn't like it _couldn't_ work, so Stiles still had a little glimmer of hope.

“Ready?” He asked gently.

“No,” Derek grunted, then strode across the room to sit down beside him, “May I?”

Stiles shrugged, not sure what he was asking, but Derek took that to mean he wasn't objecting and leaned in to bury his nose at the crux of Stiles' neck and breathe in as if it were his last breath. Stiles' eyes fluttered shut and he turned his head to do the same with Derek's hair, grasping at the back of his neck. This might be the last moment he got to smell _his mate._ Once he rejected Derek, he'd smell like any other alpha. Bit yummy. Nothing special. Just another guy with a knot.

“Okay,” Derek sat back, adjusting himself in his pants, and braced himself for Stiles' words.

It was Stiles who wasn't quite ready this time, “Did you know that Rejection is a recent phenomenon? It first occurred in the early 2000's, gave the search for equality a boost, but wasn't something most omegas could do. Then the mutation started appearing in larger numbers with each consecutive generation, until we reach today. Most omegas can reject an unwanted alpha, changing the scent and craving to both of them unless a claim is made. In fact, it can remove a claim if done afterwards. It's like a Get-Out-Of-Mateing-Free card. Eventually all omegas should be able to dump an alpha with impunity.”

“You're worried you can't?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged, “No one in my family has ever tried, so... it's possible.”

“Only one way to find out.”

Stiles grimaced, “It takes specific words, but they aren't the same for each pair.”

“I know! Just do it already!” Derek snapped, grimacing in frustration.

“I'm just saying, I might have to try more than once and your nose will smell the change before mine will. So used your words, okay?”

“Fine!”

“Derek Hale, I reject you.”

Stiles didn't need Derek to tell him it had worked, because the light in Derek's eyes instantly went out. It was as if Stiles had _killed him,_ and Stiles instantly gasped in horror and let out a soft cry of regret. He gripped Derek's arm, wanting to take it back, _take it back now!_ That gasp brought in Derek's changed scent and this time it was Stiles' turn to feel his heart break.

He wasn't even ashamed of the tears, but he was sorry that he'd made Derek feel that way, too.

CHAPTER

Derek wanted to shove Stiles away, but he was crying and even though that beautiful scent was gone Derek still remembered it and the funny young man who had been attached to it. Now he smelled like a stranger, but Derek focused on the mole on the back of his neck to ground himself and held Stiles while he sobbed. He got himself together pretty fast, pulling away and rubbing at his eyes aggressively.

“Okay. I'm... I'm good. That was. Wow. That was awful.”

Derek just nodded while Stiles sought out a bathroom and some toilet paper to blow his nose. He washed his hands and returned with a slow breath out. He didn't sit again, instead shifting from foot to foot anxiously.

“Okay, so... I don't know about you, but I kind of want to run at the moment,” Stiles told him, “But before I make like the Flash, do you still want to go out on a date?”

Derek nodded, although he wasn't actually sure. He was still sniffing the air anxiously, looking for that indefinable, rich and savory scent that had been _mate_ for such a painfully short time. He understood what Stiles meant about needing to run. He had this awful urge to go out in the hall and start searching for Stiles even though he was still there. His instincts were telling him his mate had been taken away! Where Stiles felt anxious, Derek felt angry and desperate.

“Okay, so... maybe next friday? Give us time to adjust?”

Derek nodded again. He couldn't even begin to find the words. He'd howl if he opened his mouth.

“Uh, so, maybe seven?”

Nod.

“Meet me at the store?”

Nod.

“Wear a banana costume and I'll be a clam?”

Derek scowled and Stiles held up his hands defensively, “Just making sure you were still here. You look a bit dazed.”

Derek stood up and turned away, moving quickly to the kitchen to get some space from him. Stiles, thankfully, finally got the point.

“I'll just... go...”

He fled and Derek didn't even feel the urge to chase him that he'd had when he'd run that first day in the book store. Instead he felt absolutely betrayed and hurt. When the sound of Stiles' fleeing footsteps vanished Derek sank down on the kitchen floor, clutching the counter with both hands, and took in shuddering breaths. He wished the boring omega scent in the living room would just _go away._ The lingering scent of arousal was insulting. It felt like someone _else_ had been hitting on him when all he wanted was Pre-Rejection Stiles.

“Derek?” Isaac's voice was filled with fear, “You okay? Did he mace you?”

“R-r-” Derek choked.

“That asshole actually rejected you?” Isaac spat out, then came around the kitchen island to sit on the floor with Derek.

He'd never been so grateful for his beta. He'd explain it to him later. For now all he wanted was to press against his neck and breathe in the scent of pack. Isaac even got on the phone and called Erica, telling her to get home _fast_ because Derek was upset.

They did move to the couch eventually, and Erica joined them to hold him and pet his hair in an uncharacteristically sweet way. He told them what had happened, why they'd agreed, and Erica shook her head and called him an idiot. Isaac didn't argue. He understood the kind of fear Derek had felt that had led to these events.

CHAPTER

Stiles didn't really expect Derek to show up, but as he finished his work and left it to the closer the guy actually showed up. He was wearing a very nice suit, way too nice for the cafe, and Stiles immediately regretted not bringing a nicer change of clothes. He gave Derek a nervous smile and then excused himself to change into the clothes he had brought. The button down and sports jacket with jeans would have to do. Stiles stepped out and gave Derek a wan smile, gesturing to the cafe and asking if he wanted to stay or go somewhere else.

“Dinner,” Derek replied, gesturing to the door.

“Oh, sweet,” Stiles grinned, “I'd love something from somewhere besides the cafe or my own kitchen. I usually do all the cooking and only splurge on the cafe occasionally, mainly because it's, like, _right there.”_

“You cook?” Derek asked, putting his arm through Stiles' in mirror of their first sexual encounter, and opening the door for him.

“Yup! My dad is pushing 200 and his heart is starting to strain. I've been forcing him to eat healthy, so that means I've been as well but it also means I'm _super_ done with my own cooking!”

“He looks good for his age.”

“Dyes his hair,” Stiles whispered, and then stopped in his tracks to gape at Derek's car, “Holy shit! You _are_ rich!”

Derek snorted and opened the passenger door to let Stiles slide in. Stiles cooed over the leather and Derek joined him in the driver's side.

  
“Preference?” Derek wanted to know.

“Anything but vegan,” Stiles suggested, “Uh, unless you are?”

“No, pretty much a carnivore,” Derek's mouth twitched a bit.

“I live for steak, but I almost never get it. Too pricey,” Stiles sighed fondly, “Sometimes for the holidays I can buy a few slabs and grill them up. I'll make them for you sometime if you want. I'm a helluva cook.”

“I'll take you up on that,” Derek nodded.

Stiles did a bit of a mental happy dance. He wasn't cutting Stiles off after the initial promised date. At least, he hadn't decided to yet, “Do you cook?”

“No,” Derek shook his head, “Never learned. I went to college, though.”

“Oh? What for?”

“Architecture,” Derek replied, “I'm... apparently artistic.”

“That's... so unexpected given your appearance and attitude and I love it,” Stiles gaped, “Do you have your own office?”

“Not yet,” Derek replied, “I dropped out of college because of some of the stuff I told you about already. I've been working as a secretary for an architect my dad introduced me to, sort of picking stuff up, but my boss says I'm really good so I'm going to go back and try again.”

“That's really exciting! I'm in year...” Stiles paused to do the math, “Three of my freshman year at college.”

Dead silence and Stiles realized what it sounded like.

  
“I'm not an idiot! I just don't have enough money to go to school full time, or even part time. I take a class a semester and it's taking ages. I'm going for psychology. I'm hoping to be a therapist, but I keep leaning towards social worker, too. It would be faster to get my degree and I feel like I'd make a bigger impact in the world, you know? My dad always came home from cases involving kids so destroyed. He'd come up into my bedroom, crawl in my bed, and hold me _so tight,_ like he could hug those other kids through me somehow.”

“I'm surprised you don't want to be a cop,” Derek wondered, “Like your dad. Or is that why you're so gung-ho on omega rights?”

“Oh, it's a _huge_ alpha club!” Stiles laughed, “Betas even have trouble joining, but I'd probably be a shoe-in because I basically lived there as a young kid and all through my teens. I used to help sort the tickets and file paperwork once I got older and my dad realized that I have an iron stomach. No, it's just that I live every day terrified that someone is going to kill my dad and I don't want that for my kids. Since I want kids more than an exciting career I decided a few years ago that I wanted to get inseminated if I never found the right guy. If I'm going to be a single mom- or part of a team if we work out- I don't want my kid to spend every day wondering if I'll come home. Uh... I guess I should ask if you want kids since that's obviously a deal breaker for me.”

“I've never thought about it, actually,” Derek considered, “I grew up assuming I'd have a big family because that was what _I_ grew up with. Then I met one disaster partner after another and realized I could never put a child through that. I sort of put it out of my head when I stopped dating so I haven't pictured myself as a dad since I got old enough to know what it actually meant.”

“Well, I'm a disaster, but I'm not crazy,” Stiles laughed.

Stiles was going to ask about the big family comment, but they had reached a restaurant and conversation was lost in the shuffle of handing off keys to the valet. Stiles had never eaten at this particular restaurant, and one glance at the door told him why. It was the premier steakhouse in Beacon, one that was beyond expensive and in the nicest part of town. Stiles gaped up at it until Derek got embarrassed and pulled him through the door.

Stiles felt incredibly under-dressed, but the code wasn't full suit despite others wearing them so he wasn't tossed out. They sat down and Derek ordered red aconite wine, and waters and a bread basket full of piping hot bread was put before them. Stiles picked up a roll and started shredding it while feeling like he was a complete duck out of water. He was glad to be here, eager to try the steaks, but this wasn't his circle and every time Derek expertly swished his wine Stiles felt like giggling at the absurdity.

The steaks arrived, Stiles having chosen a decent cut, a baked potato, and a salad. The steak was soft as butter and melted in his mouth and he definitely made some lewd noises. Stiles didn't think much of it until he looked up to find Derek frozen with his fork halfway to his mouth and his eyes glowing red. Stiles nearly choked, forced the food down, and smiled slyly at him.

“I guess there's still a lil something there, huh?”

Derek put his fork down and dabbed his mouth, clearly stalling for time, cleared his throat, and then uttered, “Shut up.”

Stiles laughed and Derek smirked at him. They relaxed considerably after that, and they began a light banter that felt natural and fun. Derek teased Stiles for being aroused by food, Stiles for being aroused by Stiles, and they both mocked an entitled lady at a nearby table that was being _awful_ to her waiter. Derek snuck the guy a $20. They talked politics: they mostly aligned, but not totally which led to stimulating debate. Over what had to be the best dessert Stiles had ever tasted they talked religion. Definitely polar opposites there, but it felt good to get the big shit out of the way.

Derek had all four omega siblings, mostly girls and one boy. He was the only alpha besides his sire who was an alpha female. Derek told Stiles about being piled on by them at a young age, and how proud he'd been to see his twin sister Laura start her own business and his younger sister Cora start university.

After dinner Derek took them for a walk in the park nearby. Stiles was trying to be on his best behavior, but he was practically giddy from the cheesecake and wine. About ten minutes into their 'romantic' walk it had become uncomfortably quiet so Stiles did what he did best after growing up rough. He found a way to enjoy the simple things.

There was a creek full of ducks and Stiles took one look at it, whooped, and chucked off his shoes. Derek's eyebrows dropped while those pretty eyes widened in confusion. Stiles rolled up his pant legs, pulled a stollen roll from his pocket, and headed for the ducks while giggling like a fool.

“What are you doing?” Derek sighed.

“Living. You should try it sometime.”

“I did. People called me an asshole.”

“Yeah, try living in a way that makes you happy without causing harm,” Stiles teased, “For example, bread is not good for ducks. This is for me. _Corn_ on the other hand-”

“You did _not put corn in your pocket.”_ Derek grimaced.

“Of course not! That's what the swan is for,” Stiles pulled a small tinfoil swan out of his pocket, “I think the waiter likes me.”

Derek was doing his best to look tough and not at all moved by the sight of Stiles trying to get ducks to eat directly from his hand.

  
“Just throw it to them.”

“No, the corn will sink.”

“It floats in the toilet.”

“Did you just-!” Stiles cackled, scaring the boldest duck away. He tried waiting again, but a splash behind him had him standing abruptly and turning.

Stiles nearly slipped on the rocks when he pulled this move, but it was worth it to catch Derek floundering in the water before he quickly utilized his supernatural speed to right himself. He stood there, drenched and gaping from the chill of the water, while Stiles laughed his ass off.

“Now we can talk about poo! It's _all over_ your nice suit!”

“Shut up!” Derek hissed, shivering and grimacing as he shook out his hands uselessly, “Are you done yet?”

“Nope.”

Stiles charged him and leaped at Derek, knocking him into the water again. The slippery rocks were the only reason he managed, because Derek was very much stronger and faster than he was. They went down together, and then started wrestling, Stiles laughing hysterically while spitting out water while Derek mock-growled. They eventually got yelled at and climbed out of the water, shamefaced but snickering. Stiles threw the last of the corn into the water and rescued the swan so it didn't pollute the water. They trudged back to Derek's car while Derek grumbled about having to get his car detailed again. Stiles felt a bit bad, but the alpha gave him a small smile when he caught the scent of guilt.

It felt like the beginnings of a _real_ relationship.

CHAPTER

Derek wandered into his apartment with a goofy grin on his face and ignored the teasing from Erica and Isaac. It was his fifth date with Stiles and he'd just spent a solid twenty minutes making out in his car. Stiles had the sexiest moans and Derek had been utterly gone. However, they hadn't gone beneath the clothes. There was a sort of unspoken agreement between them that they wouldn't have sex again. Derek wasn't sure how long it would go on, but he for one didn't want to go there until (if) Stiles' scent was restored. He still felt like he was cheating on his “real mate”.

That didn't mean things weren't going well. They had moved past filling each other in on random facts and awkwardness and on to being hot for each other and constantly messaging each other. Derek had the latest inplant in his brain, so he could just move his jaw- no sound required- to type out a message. That gave him an advantage over Stiles' cell phone, which he could use gestures, speech, or a keyboard to hastle Derek. Stiles still managed to have the higher word count. The guy could _chatter._ He also had a seemingly endless supply of random information, so even when the weren't flirting they were talking about some odd thought that had wandered through his head. There wasn't a single subject that was taboo with Stiles. Derek had already purged about his ex partners, something he never thought he'd share with a current one, and Stiles had absorbed that information and had a very deep and comforting talk about healthy boundaries and support. It had been healing in a way none of his therapy had.

XXX

Stiles slipped into the building with a gray hoodie pulled low over his head. Even if he was caught at a good angle he was wearing a ton of make-up. The tired people studying in the room didn't even acknowledge him.

It took a bit to find the right room, and a few minutes to pick the lock once he'd assured it was empty, and then another half an hour to be absolutely positive he had the right dresser. He chose underwear, because it was unlikely she'd share them. Then he put a _very teeny tiny_ amount of a fine white powder in the crotch of each and every pair of panties. He turned his rubber gloves inside out and tied them off before slipping them into his pocket. He ditched the gloves, hoodie, mask, and shoes (they were from a thrift store and didn't fit) in dumpsters in three different alleys before heading off.

Stiles lurked on the college chat boards for a week, waiting to see if anything would pop up. He was about to give up and assume she'd kept it quiet when a few messages referring to her showed up. People were using careful code to inform each other that she had a werewolf strain of STI's and to stay away from her rotten crotch. Stiles logged out and didn't bother logging in again. He'd gotten the result he wanted.

XXX

“It's none of your business!” Stiles shouted, shoving the squash in the fridge.

  
“That goes on the counter, and it's not about privacy, Stiles. I have money and you just lost your job. We've been dating for a month and we're _mates_ and-”

“No, we're _possible_ mates,” Stiles snapped, “No scent bond. We're _dating each other_ at the moment, and I'm not letting you pay for my college! What if I can't pay you back?”

“What if you can't?” Derek shrugged aggressively, “I'm from a rich family! I'll ask my mom for-”

“NO! NO WAY! I've never even met your mom! I absolutely will not let you ask her for money for me, or accept it from you!”

Derek stomped over to the bathroom and threw open the door, “Start puking and don't stop till you've gotten out a month worth of dates, because my job covers _fuck all_ so all those steaks were on _her_ dime!”

Stiles jerked off his tie and headed for the bathroom while rolling up his sleeves while Derek got increasingly frantic with every step he took. He put out his hand out to stop him from going into the bathroom and when Stiles tried to duck it they ended up tussling in the bathroom doorway. Derek, as always, kept his grip strong but gentle, and Stiles ended up shoved against the wall. Stiles licked his lips, because he was _always_ sexual, no matter what, and Derek growled just to stop himself from kissing the asshole.

“I'm not taking your money. Also, you're an ass.”

“Come and meet her.”

“Your mom?”

“Yes. Come and meet her, then.”

“I'm still not accepting her money.”

“Fine. You want to put off your education? Fine. You're smart as hell, you'll be fine. You can start up again after I claim your gorgeous ass and add you to my checking account.”

Stiles' pupils dilated at the mention of being claimed, but as usual his sass came to the forefront of the conversation, “You'd better get your own damn degree by then, otherwise we'll just be broke together because I'm _still_ not accepting your mom's money.”

XXX

“So, Stiles, is it?” Talia asked, accepting Stiles' jacket while Derek opened the closet to grab two hangers.

“Yeah, it's a nickname,” Stiles replied with a nervous grin, “My real name is basically unpronouncable.”

“Mieczyslaw,” Derek uttered under his breath.

“Show off,” Stiles nudged him with a laugh.

“It's about time we had you over,” Talia teased, giving Derek a fake annoyed look, “Derek rarely talks of anything besides you and your dates. I could probably list them in order!”

“That would only impress me if you did it within his usual communication parameters,” Stiles deadpanned.

“So, eyebrow twitches, scowls, and grunts?” A young woman asked as she popped up out of nowhere and made Stiles jump.

“Who the hell are you?!” Stiles shrieked.

“Cora, stop scaring people,” Talia stated without breaking stride.

“I learned how to muffle my heartbeat using an app on my phone,” She told him.

“Witchcraft,” Stiles whispered in horror.

Something wet slid down the back of Stiles' neck and he screamed again, dancing around until Derek rescued the frog from the back of his shirt by untucking it and catching the poor thing.

“Jacob! That's cruel!” Derek barked at him, putting the poor thing outside.

“We haven't even made it out of the foyey yet! Did I pronounce that right?”

“No. Foyer. Wait till you meet my twin,” Derek grinned viciously.

“But rich people are supposed to say it in French or... wait, where is your twin? I'm not getting snuck up on again.”

“I,” A voice stated clearly from the dining room Derek was herding him towards, “Don't debase myself with childish pranks and gimicky apps. Stiles, Derek tells me that you've stopped attending college? Explain yourself, and do try not to be boring.”

“You!” Stiles spun around and pointed at him angrily, “You promised I'd love them!”

“No, I distinctly said _they'd_ love _you,”_ Derek stated, “They will. As soon as my siblings stop trying to chase you off they'll adore you.”

“Fat chance,” Jacob stated, grabbing a handful of carrots from the snacks set out in the dining room, “I don't _adore_ people who make my big brother cry.”

“I made you cry?” Stiles glanced over his shoulder at Derek, “I distinctly remember being the only one crying.”

“It was a before that,” Derek told him, his cheekbones getting a dusting of pink.

“Aww, poor baby!” Stiles pinched a cheek and Derek tried to bite his hand.

“He was blubbering like a baby,” Cora stated, “Then you _rejected_ him and now you're dating? Who does that?”

“Not that I should need to defend _our_ relationship to you, but we talked it through first. As far as I know, Derek was on the same page as me. Were you?” Stiles gave Derek a carefully blank look.

“I was. I am.” Derek shrugged.

“So what's the point?” Jacob wanted to know, “Now you don't even smell good to each other.”

“We don't smell _bad_ to each other,” Stiles scoffed, “We just smell average. He's still a hot-like-fire alpha and I'm still a knee-weakening omega.”

“Other way around,” Derek grumbled.

“No it isn't,” Stiles replied.

Derek sighed and rolled his eyes.

“But you gave up the most satisfying relationship a couple could have,” Laura pointed out, “For what reason? A clear head? Time would have allowed that, and you _are_ clearly taking your time.”

Stiles shook his head, “Again, I don't have to justify my relationship with Derek to you.”

A man who had been sitting silently in the fancy sitting room just beyond the dining room suddenly spoke up, voice soft but cutting through the room, “Actually, if you're dating our Derek, you do.”

Stiles turned around and studied him for a moment, “Thank you for serving, sir.”

“Uh huh.”

“What branch?”

“Derek didn't tell you?”

“He hasn't mentioned you much, but I assume your his carrier,” Stiles replied.

“Then how'd you know I served?”

Stiles gestured to him as way of answer and the man smiled softly, “Marine Corps.”

“Cool.”

“I think what everyone is trying to ask is: what are your intentions with my son?”

“Well, if I can ever get us both to the right place, I'm hoping to ride it like I stole it,” Stiles replied easily while Derek started choking on broccoli, “Then I'm hoping that we'll get to a point where we decide forever is in sight. Then I'm going to ask him to claim me.”

Derek threw up the broccoli.

“Derek!” Talia looked shocked and sent Cora for cleaning supplies while offering him water.

“Of course, if I keep having _that_ effect on me, he might just turn me down,” Stiles worried.

XXX

“They're _awful.”_ Stiles groaned.

“They are not.” Derek stated in a curt tone.

“They really are!”

“They like you.”

“The feeling is not mutual,” Stiles insisted with a wild gesture.

“Then why are you itching for them to scent mark you?” Derek asked.

“Because my only packmates are my dad and Melissa!”

Derek was silent for a moment, giving Stiles a steady look before he sighed, “My pack is my life besides you. I need you to unbend that pride of yours and get over your shaky start with Isaac. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Stiles grumped, “He was just looking out for you. I know that.”

“Okay, good,” Derek hesitated with his hand on the handle to his loft apartment, “I also need you to keep an open mind over something else.”

“What else?” Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“I got a new packmate today,” Derek told him, his stomach twisting up with guilt, “I need you to keep an open mind about him, too.”

“I mean, I can't promise I'll bond with a person you _just_ brought into your pack and I'm _just_ meeting today,” Stiles shrugged, “You know that. Hell, it took us _three months_ of dating for me to actually form a pack bond with you!”

Derek nodded, “Just don't be an ass.”

“Why do people always try to change you?” Stiles mused as Derek opened the door and led the way in, “I swear I- Scott.”

Stiles froze in the doorway while Scott slowly got to his feet from where he'd been snuggling with Isaac on the couch. He gave Stiles a wide eyed look and a big, fat tear rolled down his cheek.

“I'm sorry,” Scott pleaded, holding out a hand, “I've never been so sorry in-”

“S' fine,” Stiles spat out, hurrying forward to throw his arms around the alpha's neck.

They hugged for uncomfortably long, until Derek felt the need to step forward and pry his boyfriend out of Scott's arms. Derek slung an arm around Stiles possessively, but the guy was too busy sniffling to rib him about it. Scott looked so relieved that Derek was surprised he wasn't swaying on his feet.

“How did this even happen?” Stiles asked, gesturing to Scott and Derek.

“I went to the book store looking for you,” Scott replied, “I met Isaac and... well...”

Isaac turned bright red and stood up to slip his arm around Scott's waist.

“No way!” Stiles grinned broadly.

“Mates,” Isaac raised his chin high in pride while still managing to look embarrassed.

“Congratulations!” Stiles hugged Isaac as well, and Derek could see the tension leaving Stiles' shoulders as he accepted another bond.

Isaac nuzzled Stiles' shoulder for a moment, and then they separated with gleeful smiles. Erica was next, shoving Isaac aside and snatching Stiles up to squeeze him tightly. Stiles gave as good as he got, laughing at her antics and then sitting down on the couch to chatter with her happily. They were going to be absolutely _annoying_ once they started plotting shit against him together.


End file.
